


Flyweight Love

by Luna_Lee



Category: Naruto
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, First Meetings, GaaLee Fest 2019, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Lee/pseuds/Luna_Lee
Summary: Lee's dream is finally coming true: he's landed the job he's always wanted and is packing his bags to move to Los Angeles for the next six or so months. His flight from Narita to LA, he assumes, will be boring and frustrating. Ten hours of sitting?! Lee wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy. But when he winds up sharing his row with a handsome stranger, his flight goes from boring to emotionally compromising.A ten hour plane ride across the Pacific Ocean isn't enough time to fall in love with someone, is it?





	1. Boarding

**Author's Note:**

> This is for day 14 of the GaaLee Fest2019, but was originally sent to me as an ask prompt from an anon on tumblr. The prompt was so cute I wanted to make sure to do it justice, instead of just making a short piece that didn't capture its potential. I'm putting this into the fest as a meet-cute trope fic, and I hope that whoever sent it to me enjoys it as much as I enjoyed the prompt. 
> 
> Here's the prompt itself: "modern au in which gaara and lee are at the same plane, sitting close to each other, but don't talk during the whole trip (but of course both of them noticed the cute guy sitting at their own row). When the plane arrives at the destination, Lee is so excited to finally meet Gai sensei again that he just grabs his standard, black backpack without even noticing that it feels lighter. he only realizes something is wrong when he finally arrives at where he’s staying and opens his bag. Even though the model is identical to his own, the stuff inside definitely does not belong to him. When he finds a document, he is shocked to find that the bag actually belongs to the redheaded cutie he was eyeing during the whole flight. Meanwhile, Gaara is very confusedto why he has a very heavy bag filled with things that are not his, including leg weights and books on martial arts." 
> 
> While I didn't follow the prompt _exactly_, the main point of the prompt is there...
> 
> I spent far too much time looking at maps of Narita airport and looking up layouts of planes, because I have never been to Japan or flown on a Japanese airline, and let me tell you those planes have _mad_ room. I am so jealous. Also, the _food_ options! Anyways, I'm sure google now thinks I'm planning a trip to Japan, so when I get targeted ads, I'll know exactly why. 
> 
> A note about the tag "awkward sexual situations", there is no actual sex in this fic, but the scene itself is still like lowkey spicy, I guess. So I wanted to put a warning in there. 
> 
> A huge shoutout, as always to [tendertorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendertorn) for beta'ng and also assuring me this _is_ good when I was starting to feel shitty about my writing.
> 
> Title is from the song of the same title by Vienna Teng, and [y'all should listen to it.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBgbB_C9FMg)

_“Here I am_  
_Here you are_  
_Breathing a hello_  
_My flyweight love, flyweight love”_  
—Veinna Teng (_Flyweight Love_, Aims)

I. Boarding 

“And you have everything?” Maito Gai's voice booms through the speaker of his cellphone.

“Yes, Gai-sensei!” Lee assures for the umpteenth time. Gai, his longtime mentor and unspoken father-figure, is almost more excited about Lee's new job than Lee is. He's certainly cried himself silly over the news more times than Lee, but that could also be due to the fact that Lee will be moving halfway across the globe for an uninterrupted six months for the sake of his new position. 

Though Gai is not Lee's father, he has always been as close to one as Lee could hope for and being parted is hard on both of them. But the reality of Lee's situation has not quite sunk in yet. Perhaps it will once he's made it to the airport. 

“Please call me the moment you land!” Gai says, his voice tearful. In the background, Lee can hear the half-bored voice of Hatake Kakashi, reminding Gai that Lee is, in fact, an adult and can take care of himself. Lee smiles to himself.

“I promise I will call as soon as I can, but it will be quite late when I arrive for you.” 

“The knowledge that you are safe and sound is worth losing sleep!” He's veritably blubbering by now. Lee can imagine the fat tears streaming down his face like waterfalls, try as he might to quell them. Tears spring to his own eyes and he manages a whopping thirty seconds before he's sobbing into his phone as well, just in time for the taxi to pull up to the curb in front of his little apartment. 

“Gai-sensei,” he says tearfully into the phone, “I promise to call you as many times a day as my work allows! I must go now.” 

Gai doesn't say goodbye so much as sob directly and loudly into the phone. A moment later, his sobbing diminishes to background noise and Kakashi's voice is in Lee's ear. “Take care, Lee.” 

“The same to you, Kakashi-sensei!” Lee enthuses, wiping his eyes as his driver struggles to heave his heavy luggage into the trunk. “Oh, I must go! Please take care of Gai-sensei for me! Excuse me, I can get that.” He hangs up the phone, rushing to the driver's aid. The man has worked up a sweat in the short time that Lee was distracted by his goodbyes. 

“What's in that thing?” the man gasps, slumping against the side of the car. 

“Training equipment!” Lee knows it's a bit silly to bring his own supplies. After all, it's not as though they won't have weapons and weights and all manner of things Lee probably has never so much as dreamed of using—movie sets, he's fairly certain, are far better equipped than his little apartment or the dojo Gai and Kakashi own. 

“For what?” the man gapes. 

“To stay at the peak of performance, of course!” Lee beams at him, hoisting his luggage up in one hand and carefully setting it into the back of the cab. The back-end of the car drops low with the sudden weight and the driver's eyes boggle, his mouth hanging open. 

Lee hopes they don't hit any speed bumps along the way. 

________________________________________________

The airport is a city all its own. 

It's hustling and bustling, crowded with cars and people and buses and so much noise it's almost claustrophobic. Lee is buzzing in the backseat of his cab, staring out the window with his nose smooshed into the glass. He has only ever been out of the country a handful of times to visit extended family in China. Los Angeles is a whole new world full of glitz and glam—or so Lee thinks—and he feels as though he's about to start an incredible adventure. 

“So, are you really going to be in a movie?” his driver, Kentaro, asks as they sit in bumper to bumper traffic. 

“Well, I will not have a starring role or anything like that,” he clarifies. “But I am one of the key stuntmen!” 

Kentaro whistles, impressed. “That's something else,” he says. The cab jerks forward an inch or so before stopping as traffic once again comes to a standstill. 

Lee sighs, exasperated and impatient. He still has three hours before his flight, but he's anxious to get to his gate. He leans forward, pointing to a clear spot just up ahead. 

“Could you drop me off there?” 

“Eh? But that's not your airline.” 

“That is all right! The walk will give me the chance to stretch my legs before my long flight!” 

“But your luggage—”

“Oh, that will be easy! It will be like training!” Lee grins at Kentaro's reflection in the rear view mirror, giving him a thumb's up. 

Kentaro chuckles in response, steering the car to where Lee has pointed. “You got a lot of energy, kid.” 

He fights his way towards the opening in traffic, making his way between cars with drivers just as desperate to get to their terminal as Lee is. It takes them another agonizing ten minutes to reach the curb, but Kentaro finally brings the cab to a stop and Lee darts from it in the blink of an eye. 

He isn't paying attention, unfortunately, and runs right into someone rushing along the walkway. 

They crash into each other and go tumbling to the ground. Lee manages to roll them mid fall so that he takes the brunt of the impact, but the man's suitcase topples over onto them as well and his personal item spills open, papers cascading around them. 

Lee stares up into startling green eyes and his face warms. “I am so sorry!” he shouts, sitting them up. “Are you all right? I hope I did not hurt you!” 

The man gives him a narrow-eyed look, his gaze scanning his scattered belongings. “I'm fine,” he says through a clenched jaw as he moves to pick up his things. 

“Please, let me help.” 

“I'm fine.” He snaps the words this time, attempting to ward Lee off with a glare.

Lee doesn't listen, however, and frantically tries to assist him, shuffling papers haphazardly together and holding them out with a sheepish grin. “Please, forgive me. I was not looking where I was going.” 

The man takes his papers, muttering a quick, “Don't worry about it.” 

He's on his feet and has grabbed his luggage before Lee can offer any further assistance. He nods to Lee once, stiff and annoyed, and then heads off at a brisk pace. 

From the other side of the taxi, Kentaro calls over the noise of traffic, “Smooth move, Mister Stuntman.” 

Lee blushes, pushing himself to his feet. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Four-thousand yen.” Kentaro grins. “And you'll have to grab your own luggage, I'm afraid.” 

Lee counts out his fare as Kentaro pops the trunk. Once he's paid and unloaded his belongings, he thanks Kentaro and heads off, making his way for what he hopes is a helpful sign that will point him in the right direction. It takes him five minutes to figure out that he's on the opposite side of where he needs to be, but he's still making good time so he doesn't need to panic just yet. 

If anything, he decides to turn his journey from the wrong side of the airport to the correct side into a competition. If he can make it to Terminal Two in under twenty minutes, then he'll buy himself a treat before his flight, but if he fails his first activity upon landing in California will be an unforgiving run through whatever park he can find while wearing his heaviest weights! 

With this in mind, he sets off, a determined furrow to his brow. 

________________________________________________

Lee arrives two minutes later than his goal with a defeated slump to his shoulders. He'd been held up by the foot traffic of the airport, but excuses aside, he couldn't deny that he'd probably need the workout once he landed. Ten hours of sitting on a plane was bound to get him wound up and full of extra energy. 

He raises a determined fist, mentally pumping himself up for the workout that awaits him. This earns him several concerned stares from passers-by, but he hardly notices them. 

It takes him a moment to remember that now is not the time for impassioned internal monologues about the joys of exercise and the passions of youth. He still has over two hours before his flight, but Lee prefers to be at his gate extra early just in case. He makes his way to the ticket counter and baggage check, greeting the attendant there with a brilliant grin. 

“Welcome to Narita Airport. Where is your destination?” the woman says with a smile. 

“Los Angeles, California, United States of America!” he declares, producing his passport.

The woman leans back at the volume, but continues to smile as she accepts his documentation. “Will you be checking any bags today?” 

“Yes, please!” Lee says, hoisting his luggage onto the scale. 

The woman's eyes boggle as the numbers on the scale flash. “I'm sorry, but this exceeds the weight limit for checked bags.” 

Lee's smile slips. “Oh dear,” he frets, looking down at the little numbers flashing on the scale. He worries his lip, looking up at her with wide eyes. “What can I do?” 

“Unfortunately, you will need to buy another suitcase or else transfer some of the items to your carry on.” 

Lee shakes his head. “This is full of training equipment. I do not think that will go over well with security.” 

“Oh, no, certainly not. There's a shop just down that way. I can hold your luggage here while you go get something.” 

“Thank you so much,” Lee says with a bow. He should have realized that ninety kilograms would be too much for one bag, but he'd been so determined to fit everything into one suitcase. He sighs heavily, feeling more than a little foolish and more than a little worried at the delay this will cause. 

The shop he finds has suitable sized suitcases and he buys two smaller ones to transfer his heaviest weights to. He'll just have to forgo buying anything to eat in the airport to make up for all the money he's spending on luggage. He perks up at the reminder that he has several snacks in his carry-on, including some of Gai's homemade energizing dumplings. 

Once he's transferred his weights and paid even more money for the two extra checked bags, Lee makes his way through security. By the time he arrives at his gate, there's only an hour left before his flight. 

He finds himself a seat and flops down, heaving a huge, put upon sigh. 

It certainly has not been the great start he'd hoped for. Between the traffic, crashing into a stranger, and the luggage fiasco, he's feeling more than a little dejected. He'd wanted everything to go smoothly—he'd arrive with plenty of time to spare, he'd find himself a nice restaurant or cafe to sit in while he waited for his flight, he'd eat something hearty while he went over his itinerary for his first week in LA before work began... 

He shook away the fantasy that would never be, pushing himself to sit up straight. “There is no reason to be so down,” he chastises himself. A few minor hiccups will certainly not ruin this for him, not unless he lets them. 

Overhead, there's a crackling as a speaker comes to life. “Standby customers for flight GL8118 to Los Angeles, California, United States of America,” a cool voice says. The speaker crackles again, garbling the first part of the next words, “—Gaara, please make your way to Gate 134 Counter G. Thank you.” 

Vibrant red hair catches the light in Lee's periphery and he turns in time to see the stranger he'd bumped into making his way towards Counter G. 

He doesn't mean to stare, but there's something incredibly striking about the man, and suddenly his mind is running wild with possibilities. His best friends have always discouraged his tendency of falling in love with beautiful strangers, but Lee cannot help it—he's a romantic. 

His flights of fancy have never amounted to more than a few awkward conversations, but he hasn't allowed rejection to dampen his romantic spirit. 

With his mind jumping from one impossible scenario to the next—perhaps this man always works in Hollywood, he certainly has a unique enough look to be a model; or perhaps he's an LA local who was just visiting Japan to see family and he could show Lee around the town; or perhaps he's an international spy—

Gaara falls into the seat directly across from Lee, staring down at his ticket. He looks up, catching Lee's eye, and Lee grins broadly, waggling his fingers in a little wave. 

“Hello, again!” 

Gaara's expression doesn't change as he stares, unblinking at Lee. 

Being stared at like that should be unnerving, but Lee only finds himself blushing under that alluring gaze. He finds himself tongue-tied, which is a rare enough occurrence, and unable to look away. Perhaps Gaara wasn't a spy, perhaps he was some sort of magician—a wizard wandering the world on a quest that Lee had unknowingly gotten himself wrapped up in! 

“Hi,” Gaara says flatly, at least a full minute after Lee's initial greeting. 

The flush creeping along Lee's cheeks works its way down his neck and into his chest, his heart fluttering. “Hi,” he says dumbly, then catches himself. “I hope I did not inconvenience you earlier.” 

Gaara regards him coolly for a moment. “I missed my flight.” 

All of Lee's fantasies fly out the window at the admission. His expression falls, his smile slipping into a deep pout and his eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “Oh, no,” he gasps, perhaps a bit melodramatic. “I am so terribly sorry! I did not mean to cause you such grief!” 

“I was running late,” Gaara says. “And I was running in a crowded place. It was my fault more than yours.” 

Lee sags with relief, but the guilt doesn't fully evaporate. He looks up at Gaara through his lashes and says, “If you are sure, but I would still like to make it up to you! Perhaps I could buy you lunch—”

“They serve food on the flight.” 

“Oh, well, yes, but I thought—”

“And there won't be enough time. Boarding starts in thirty minutes.” 

Lee fumbles for something to say, something smooth and confident, something that doesn't sound pathetic or desperate. “Uhhhhh...” 

“There's a cafe that just opened on the fourth floor.” Gaara pulls something from a pocket on his saddle bag, unfolding a map of the airport. “I saw an advertisement for it—here it is: Bijū Cafe.” 

Lee blinks at the point on the map Gaara's finger hovers over, caught completely off-guard by the suggestion. “Uh.” 

“You're not very articulate.” Gaara folds up the map and stuffs it back into the bag, his expression as unchanged as when he'd first sat down. “Did you want to go? Thirty minutes should be enough time.”

Lee's mouth falls open before he can help himself. He's never successfully asked someone out—had he asked Gaara out? Or had Gaara asked him out? Did Gaara know what Lee had meant by his offer? Was Lee supposed to know what Gaara meant? 

He knows he's been staring in gobsmacked shock for longer than is polite, but he can't look away as Gaara continues to stare at him like an owl, unblinking and stony faced. 

Lee finally manages to close his mouth, but Gaara's unwavering stare keeps him from looking away. He takes in a deep breath, steadying himself as he says, “I would love that, actually! Sorry, I was surprised by your suggestion.” 

Gaara frowns at him as he gathers up his belongings. “It was your suggestion.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“And if you're treating, I wanted to try the taiyaki. The advertisement described it as 'a scrumptious treat. The best in Narita.'” His flat delivery of the phrase 'a scrumptious treat' makes Lee feel giddy and he has to fight back a fit of giggles as he trails after Gaara. 

“That is quite a claim! I guess we can judge for ourselves.” 

Gaara doesn't respond as they navigate their way through the crowded departure lobby and up to the fourth floor, which is teaming with people shopping and dining before their flights. There is a camera store directly in front of them and a brightly lit kiosk of goodies, the sign a rainbow logo that draws the eye. Gaara leads Lee around the corner to Bijū Cafe, which is more crowded than the other nearby shops and smells as scrumptious as Gaara had claimed. 

“We should just grab it and go back to the gate,” he says, as though continuing some thought Lee should have been privy to.

“That is an excellent idea!” he agrees as they fall in line behind a family of excited children and a put-upon man. 

Standing in line with a stranger is an awkward affair. They step forward together, but there is silence between them. A couple behind them giggles, the children ahead of them shriek with unrestrained glee, and around them other travelers chatter, filling the space of the cafe with so much noise it's almost deafening. 

Above the building, Lee can hear the sounds of planes taking off and landing, their thundering engines like growl of great beasts. 

“Do you travel a lot?” he finally asks, desperate to fill what feels to him like an awkward silence. 

“Yes.” Gaara doesn't elaborate. He also doesn't ask Lee the same question, thus Lee has no opening to continue the conversation. 

He bobs his head awkwardly, his smile a little strained. “Oh, that is—that is nice. I have only ever traveled outside the country to visit family in Hong Kong.” 

Gaara glances up at him, not quite curious, but at least attentive. Or so Lee hopes. 

“Why are you going to LA?” Lee blurts because the silence has stretched on again and Gaara's gaze is almost unnerving. 

“Work.” 

Again, Lee nods like a goose bobbing its head, lost for words. Gaara is either an incredibly private person or he doesn't actually want to get to know Lee and is simply using him for free taiyaki. The latter is a terrible thought that makes Lee's heart sink into his stomach, but the former at least offers him some sort of hope. Perhaps Gaara is more challenging to get to know, but that means when Lee finally does break through, it will be all the more worth it for the challenge! 

His eyes sparkle with a new determination. He smiles more confidently. He opens his mouth to ask Gaara another question, but is cut off by a barista calling, “Next!” 

Gaara steps up to the counter, placing his order. “One taiyaki.” 

Lee is caught off guard for a moment, but he quickly collects himself and steps up behind Gaara. “Please, could you make that two. It is my treat, remember?” 

Gaara doesn't smile back at Lee, but he allows Lee to pay for the both of them before following Lee to a small table to wait for their order. Lee has barely sat down when they're being called back to the hand-off plain to collect their order. 

“That was quick!” he says as they exit the cafe with their treats. 

“It's probably premade,” Gaara points out before taking a bite of his. “It's good though.” 

“As scrumptious as advertised?” Lee asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

Gaara gives him a strange look, staring up at his thick eyebrows as they wiggle. After another prolonged moment of staring, he finally says, “No, but it's good.” 

Lee deflates, mentally tallying a strike against himself for failing to make Gaara so much as smile. He takes a petulant bite of his taiyaki, leaning with slumped shoulders against the escalator as they descend back to the third floor and make for their gate. 

“Final boarding call for flight GL8118 to Los Angeles, California, United States.” The voice echoes over the noise of the crowd as they touch down on the third level. 

“That is us!” Lee panics and without thinking he stuffs his taiyaki into his mouth, grabs his and Gaara's personal belongings and hoists them into his arms. Around a mouthful of bread and red bean, he manages to mumble, “We should hurry or we may miss our flight!” 

Before Gaara can agree to this, Lee is off, zig-zagging through the crowd as though it were an obstacle course. He reaches their gate in minutes, just in time for the last person to hand over their ticket. 

“Please wait one moment! My friend is just behind me, he begs, setting his and Gaara's things down. He pulls his ticket out to hand to the attendant who is boggling at him. He turns to look for Gaara, but he cannot see a shock of vibrant red hair anywhere in the crowd. “Sorry, I ran when I heard the final boarding call. I am sure he will be here any moment.” 

“Of course, sir,” the attendant squeaks, still staring. She is currently staring at his arms and Lee can almost feel her urge to reach out and poke the musculature. 

It takes five minutes before Gaara appears in the crowd, an actual expression on his face for the first time since Lee had bumped into him. He looks harassed and winded, his already messy hair in a state of disarray that Lee quietly finds incredibly attractive. He flushes when Gaara catches his eye, despite the glare he's earned for dashing off with Gaara's things. 

“Ah, Gaara-san—”

“I. _Hate._ Running.” He snatches his saddle bag from Lee, digging through it before shoving the ticket at the poor, innocent attendant. Gaara wheezes, clutching his chest and glaring at Lee for all he's worth while the woman verifies his ticket. 

“You're—you're all set!” the woman says uneasily. “Please have a good flight!” 

Gaara grabs his things and stalks ahead of Lee, glaring at nothing in particular. 

“I think you're friend is a bit upset with you,” the attendant whispers to Lee. 

Lee sighs. “I think you may be right.” 

“Don't worry,” she murmurs. “A ten hour flight is too long to be mad at anyone. I'm sure he'll cheer up.” 

Lee doubts that ten hours of flying will change Gaara's attitude. He'll be lucky if he's even sitting close enough to Gaara to try and apologize. 

“Well, go on! Before your friend steals your window seat.” 

Lee looks back at her in confusion as he gathers his things and makes his way down the corridor to the airplane. Gaara's standing in the doorway, waiting behind a line of people. 

“Forgive me for running off like that,” Lee whispers close to his ear as he settles in line behind Gaara. 

Gaara stiffens, but it is the only acknowledgment he offers Lee. 

Lee sighs. “I suppose I could not convince you to let me make this up to you when we land in LA.” 

Still Gaara is silent. Several people move ahead, and Gaara is all too quick to pull up behind them, trying and failing to put distance behind himself and Lee. 

With a final strike against himself, Lee decides to cut his losses. He knows better than to poke and prod when someone doesn't want to speak to him. Though he has no other choice but to stand behind Gaara, he keeps a respectable amount of space between them as they shuffle along the aisle towards their seats. Lee double checks his ticket for his own assignment. 

“Eighteen...” He scans the marked luggage racks, searching out his own seat. Ahead of him, Gaara's shoulders tense, but he tries not to pay too much attention. 

Lee is no stranger to rejection, after all, so he can accept that he's screwed up his chances. 

And then he reaches his seat assignment only to be blocked by Gaara, who is staring down at his own ticket with narrowed eyes. 

“Ah, it looks as though we are sitting together,” Lee says catching sight of Gaara's ticket. “I promise I will not run off with your luggage in the middle of the flight.” 

Gaara gives him a narrow-eyed look before huffing and stowing his things. “I'm taking the window seat.” 

Lee cannot help but laugh. “The gate attendant said you would do that.” 

Gaara ignores Lee in favor of looking through his saddle bag. 

Lee shakes his head, disappointed that they'd gotten off on such a bad foot so many times now. He stows the carry on and slides his personal bag under the seat before settling in. “Do you mind if I look out the window when we fly over the ocean?” 

“There won't be anything to see,” Gaara tells him. He's pulled out some official looking documents and is pouring over them, doing his best not to look at Lee. 

“I suppose, but if you would not mind...” 

Gaara shrugs. “I guess it's fine.” 

Lee grins, a point earned in his favor. It's possible there's no salvaging even a tentative friendship between the two of them, but if they're going to be sitting together for ten hours, he might as well try to smooth things over at the very least. 

There is an abrupt burst of static overhead and then a voice echoes through the plane. “Attention passengers, we apologize for the inconvenience, but due to heavy air traffic we will be grounded for thirty minutes. While we wait for the go head, please feel free to move about the cabin.” 

All around people groan, mumbling their annoyance as the announcement is made again in English. 

Lee grins at the annoyed look on Gaara's face. “I guess this is going to be a much longer flight than expected.” 

Gaara gives him a flat look, before turning his attention back to his work.


	2. Take Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delays prolong their inevitable take off. Can Lee get Gaara to warm up to him before their plane is airborne?

“So what is that you are reading?” Lee asks ten minuets into waiting for their delayed take-off. 

Gaara huffs. “It's work.” 

“What sort of work?” 

“Environmental.” 

“That sounds fascinating.” Lee has absolutely no idea if it's fascinating or not, but he does find Gaara fascinating. 

Gaara looks up at him over a pair of thin-framed reading glasses. “You're interested in environmental science?” 

“Sure!” Lee enthuses, too excited at the note of interest in Gaara's voice to say otherwise. “I mean, uh, I am certainly no scientist, but I love nature!” 

Gaara rolls his eyes at this, leaning back in his seat. “Loving nature doesn't mean you have an interest in environmental science.” 

“Why not? Maybe I would if you explained it to me.” This was definitely going well, Lee told himself. After all, Gaara had strung whole sentences together, instead of giving him one word answers. That was improvement. “I will admit, I have never been good with academics, but just because I do not fully understand something does not mean I do not respect it or find it interesting!” 

“I see.” Gaara pushes his glasses back up, turning back to his work. 

Lee deflates. “I take it you enjoy science?” 

“Some of it,” Gaara says. “I'm a botanist.” 

“So are you going to Los Angeles for... botany?” 

“A conference on climate disaster.” 

“That is impressive! So then you are an activist, too?” 

“In a manner of speaking. I don't do much community organizing.” 

“But you are still working to protect the earth! That is incredibly admirable!” 

“It's necessary.” 

Lacking any knowledge on environmental activism or botany, Lee is at a loss for what to say. He racks his brain, searching for something else to fill the silence. They were so close to having a full blown conversation, they were so close to actually getting to know one another. Lee couldn't give up now! 

“So uh, what made you want to study botany?” 

“I like plants.” 

“I... had to assume.” Another strike. Maybe this wasn't meant to be, after all. 

“Plants are... easy. They make sense to me. I didn't have a lot of friends in school, but I cultivated cacti.” He shrugs, avoiding Lee's gaze.

“That sounds lonely,” Lee says thoughtlessly. He quickly adds, “I am sure your cacti kept you company though! That must have been nice to have something to take care of like that. I have a tortoise back home—he is staying with my mentor until I get back from the US.” 

“I'm sure he'll miss you.” 

Lee is awash with joy at this small victory, and he gives himself three points for it. “I do not know if that is true, but I would like to think so. I think he mostly just likes that I feed him lots of fruits and vegetables. Perhaps you could give me tips on starting my own garden so I can give him home-grown produce?” 

There is a faint curve at the corner of Gaara's mouth now. He looks at Lee, the annoyance and blankness from before replaced by a genuine spark of interest. The small barely there smile might as well be a thousand-watts for the things it does to Lee's heart. He feels his face warm and immediately looks away, laughing loudly and nervously. 

“Of course, I would probably forget anything you told me by the time I get back to Japan,” he says, his voice loud in the small space with his nerves. 

“I could write some things down for you,” Gaara offers, his tone soft with interest. 

Lee is sure his face is beat red and he knows he won't be able to articulate anything more than a few indecipherable sounds, so he nods quickly. 

“What sort of space do you have?” Gaara pulls a notebook from his bag, opening it to a blank page. 

“I live in an apartment. It is on the smaller side, but I have a small balcony. I have tried to grow a few plants but nothing has ever worked.” 

Gaara hums as he listens, writing in a crisp clean hand. “Were you starting from seeds?” 

“Yes, and when that did not work I bought a few plants that died a week later.” 

“Did you transplant them?” 

“Uh...”

“Plants need space for their roots to spread out, otherwise they'll die. Next time you buy anything, you should also buy a larger pot with proper drainage. And when you transplant, you'll need to make sure to break up the clumps of dirt around the roots.” 

Lee nodded dumbly as he took everything Gaara had said in. “I will try to remember that.” 

“I've written it down for you. There's a lot more to taking care of plant life than most people realize.” 

“I never knew plants could be so complicated.” 

Lee watches Gaara fill the page in silence. He's caught up in staring at Gaara's hand, at the dirt beneath blunt nails and the smooth skin, so he doesn't fully register the pause in Gaara's stream of writing. He's in the middle of finishing a character when he stops and it's only the heavy weight of being watched that pulls Lee's gaze up. 

Gaara is staring at him as boldly as Lee has been watching him write. This close, Lee is caught off guard. Belatedly he realizes he's leaned closer, encroaching on Gaara's personal space. 

“S-sorry,” he offers weakly. He leans away, but he stares at Gaara out of the corner of his eye as he continues to stare at Lee in silence. 

Eventually, when Lee's skin is beginning to crawl and he can't help but fidget under the intensity of Gaara's gaze, Gaara returns to his notebook. He finishes his notes with an abrupt motion, ripping two pages from his book and handing them to Lee. 

“That should be enough. I wrote down a few websites that might be helpful if it's not.” 

“Thank you. That was very kind of you.” 

Gaara is silent again, returning his attention back to his work, which Lee takes for an end to their conversation until Gaara says, an awkward and terse note in his voice, “Why are you going to LA?” 

Lee is caught off guard by the question, belated as it is and, more than anything, surprised at Gaara's interest. He beams. “I am going for work myself! I will be living the glamorous life of a Hollywood stunt double and fight choreographer!” 

Telling a complete stranger this feels almost like boasting, but Lee is proud of his achievement. It has taken him years of training and study to get to this point. Much as he loves Gai's dojo and working there, he'd wanted something else for himself—something more exciting than the everyday. Following in the footsteps of one of the greatest martial artists ever had been a dream of his ever since the first time he broke a wooden block with his bare his hands. 

No matter what anyone else said about impossible dreams and needing a backup plan, Lee had known that one day all of his hard work would pay off. 

“You're an actor?” 

Lee laughs, waving off the question. “I would not call myself an actor! I am a martial artist, first and foremost. I do not know if I could ever be in a starring role, but I do not mind that. I would much rather work to create beautiful fight scenes!” 

The flat expression Gaara gives him tells Lee nothing about what Gaara is thinking. Does he find Lee's career interesting? Does he think it's stupid? Does he hate fighting? 

“I've never watched any martial arts films,” Gaara finally says. He presses lips together, his mouth a tight line and his gaze averted. “It seems like a dangerous job though.” 

“It is!” Lee enthuses. “It is exhilarating! You never really know what is going to happen, even in a choreographed fight! That is why it is so important to have expert stuntmen and choreographers! And that includes properly training! Did you know that Bruce Lee died because of an injury he sustained while lifting weights?” 

Gaara blinks at Lee owlishly, mouth slightly open as he takes in everything Lee has just rattled off. “I don't know who that is.” 

Lee's mouth falls open, his eyes wide with horror and shock. “How can you not know who Bruce Lee is?! He is only one of the greatest martial artists to ever live!” 

“I don't follow that sort of thing.” 

“I—what about Jackie Chan? Surely you know who that is!” 

Gaara frowns. “I don't think so.” 

“But—but Jackie Chan! He holds the record for the most stunts performed by a living actor! His films are incredibly popular! Did you know that he cannot get insured in the United States because of his stunt work? I was so surprised to hear they were looking to hire for his film when I first found out about this job! Of course, it is such a great opportunity! And getting to work with one of my heroes!” Lee has forgotten exactly why he'd begun this tirade in the first place and Gaara is staring at him with wide eyes now, but his excitement and passion for martial arts has overwhelmed all sense of decorum. 

“You are... very passionate,” Gaara says when Lee pauses to take a breath. “I did not realize martial arts films were so... intense.” 

“Intense?” Lee repeats, as if Gaara has personally insulted him. “Intense is nothing! Did you know Jackie Chan has almost died performing stunts?” 

Gaara is leaning against the window, putting distance between himself and Lee's intensity. “I did not.” 

Lee flushes, pulling out of Gaara's personal space. “Ah, forgive me! I have gotten carried away! I simply cannot help it! Martial arts is my passion! The skill it takes! The strength! The endurance! There is nothing more beautiful to me than the graceful dance between two well trained martial artists!” Lee wipes at his eyes before he can embarrass himself further by crying over what Gaara must find a very uninteresting and possibly unpleasant subject. 

“It's fine.” Gaara settles back into his seat, watching Lee warily. “I've never met anyone quite as... intense as you.” 

Lee flushes. “I get that a lot.” 

“It's not a bad thing,” Gaara says quietly. 

No one, besides Gai, has ever told Lee that his passion for things is anything but bad. Lee is used to his friends teasing him for his eccentricities, he's used to strangers pointing and laughing at him for his overly emotional displays, he is used to people not understanding him. He is not used to strangers—especially attractive strangers—complimenting him. 

Before Lee can say anything, there's static and the voice of the captain fills the cabin.

“Attention passengers, we apologize for the delay. We've been given the go ahead and are preparing for take off. Please fasten your seat belts and direct your attention to the flight attendants as they go over safety procedures.” 

The moment—if there even was a moment springing between them—is shattered by the announcement. Lee's excitement makes his heart beat quick and fast in his chest, but beside him, Gaara stiffens, his expression hard and blank. 

“Are you all right?” 

It takes a moment for Gaara to get the words out, his mouth a thin, tight line and his jaw tense. “I don't like flying.” 

“Oh, you—you did not mention that! I thought you traveled often.” 

“I do. And I don't like flying.” 

“Is there anything I could do to help?” 

Gaara glances at him, the tension in his mouth growing as the plane begins to roll across the tarmac. “No.” 

“Are you sure? Would talking to you help? Or I could hold your hand?” Lee flushes, but Gaara hardly notices, staring determinedly ahead as he is. Lee glances to the open window, then slowly reaches across Gaara to pull the shade down. “Is that better?” 

“No.” Gaara swallows, the sound audible in the small space between them. “But thank you.” 

In the aisle, a flight attendant clears her throat, drawing Lee's attention for a brief moment. He knows he should pay attention, but he's flown before and he knows he can look at the safety manual in the seat pocket if he needs to. He turns back to Gaara, staring at the tension in his face and trying to rack his brain for something. 

“What is your favorite plant?” he asks suddenly. 

Gaara turns to him at this, his expression relaxing with confusion. “What?” 

“Your favorite plant.” Lee smiles in a way he hopes is comforting. “Can you tell me about it?” 

Gaara stares at him for a long moment, tension easing from his jaw before he lets out a breathy sigh. “I've never thought about what my favorite might be.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” Gaara confirms. The tension returns full force as the plane turns a corner and the flight attendant begins explaining what to do in the event of a water landing. “I like cacti.” 

“I do not know anything about cacti. Are there a lot of different kinds?” 

“Two-thousand. Roughly.” 

Lee's mouth drops. “Woah! That is incredible! I had no idea there were that many! I always just thought there was... one or two types.” 

Gaara snorts. “Hardly.” 

“I suppose it would be difficult to pick a favorite with that many to choose from.” 

The plane slows to a stop and the captain's voice echoes overhead, “Flight attendants prepare for take-off.” 

Gaara's knuckles turn splotchy as he grips the armrest between himself and Lee. 

“How many cacti do you have? I assume you do not have all two-thousand different kinds!” He speaks quickly, determined to distract Gaara as the engines roar and the plane picks up speed. 

Gaara doesn't reply though. His jaw is clenched tight and he stares straight ahead as though looking anywhere but the seat in front of him will cause certain death. 

“Or—do you have other types of plants? Beside cacti? Do you grow vegetables?” Lee is running out of questions to ask Gaara and the engine is only roaring louder, making it difficult for him to speak without shouting. 

There is a sudden jolt and Gaara jerks, his hand flying out to grab hold of Lee as the plane finally lifts off from the ground. Lee keeps his arm relaxed, patting Gaara's hand, which is gripping his forearm for dear life. 

“I think when I get to my new apartment in LA, I will find myself a cactus,” Lee says, a moment of inspiration striking him. “Perhaps you could help me figure out the best kind?” 

Gaara finally glances at him, that small smile he'd graced Lee with earlier finally easing the tension in his face. 

Lee returns the smile as their plane climbs higher and higher into the air.


	3. Cruising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally reach cruising altitude, and it's not just the plane that's smoothly flying through the skies, but Lee's heart. As the hours fall away, Lee grows more and more smitten.

Once they reach their cruising altitude and the flight attendants begin to cart complimentary drinks down the aisle, Gaara relaxes and returns to the work Lee had distracted him from. 

However, instead of falling into an awkward silence, Gaara keeps Lee's attention with random bits of conversation. Gaara doesn't say much, but when he does it's all Lee wants to hear—even when he doesn't understand it. 

“—using plants for renewable resources,” Gaara is saying thirty minutes into their flight. He's not the most expressive person, but when he talks about plants, there's a light in his eyes that captivates Lee's attention. 

He smiles and nods, even though the science of it all goes right over his head. Gaara either doesn't realize that Lee is entirely clueless or he doesn't care, because he continues to bombard Lee with facts and scientific jargon Lee simply cannot comprehend. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen, would you like a beverage?” 

“I would love a water, please,” Lee says, tearing his gaze away from Gaara. 

“Water.”

Gaara's bluntness earns him a raised eyebrow from their attendant, but she pours them their drinks with a smile and wishes them a pleasant flight. “Dinner will be served in a few hours,” she adds, before moving on to the next row. 

“As I was saying,” Gaara says, a hint of annoyance in his tone. 

Lee is back to hanging on his every word, listening with the rapt attention that had defined his childhood years in the dojo. Gaara talks with a fraction more intonation and expression as he goes over the science of plants and the potential for sustainable energy they provide. 

Lee wonders, as Gaara shows him a figure in his notes, if he cant outfit his apartment with solar panels. 

“—not difficult, but getting funding is the issue.” 

“That must be frustrating.” 

Gaara rolls his eyes. “It's a pain in the ass,” he grumbles, turning back to his papers. He falls silent again, his eyes scanning the page all over again. 

Lee sighs, content and at ease. Even if ten hours of sitting is the last thing he wants to do, he thinks he'll survive it if it means getting to listen to Gaara talk that whole time.  


________________________________________________

And hour later, Lee is antsy. 

Gaara hasn't spoken for a full thirty minutes, fully absorbed in his work now, and Lee feels the need to do _something_. Anything. He knows he can't do push ups in the aisle—that would certainly be a safety hazard—and there's no way he could run laps through the aisles, either. 

He is resigned to sitting, but his body jitters, his leg bouncing wildly and his fingers tapping a rhythmless beat against the arm of his chair. 

Gaara sighs, letting his papers fall to the table before him. “Your tapping is distracting me.” 

Lee stops, gripping the arm of his seat. “Sorry. I am just... bored.” 

“Bored.” 

“Yes.” 

Gaara sighs. “What about watching a movie?” 

Lee mulls this over. Outside of a few specific genres, Lee isn't that invested in sitting for two hours to watch a film. But he supposes it'll do to pass the time. He taps the screen in the seat before him, scrolling through to find something worth watching. He stops when he sees a familiar title. 

“Oh! They have 'The Legend of the Drunken Master'!” he exclaims, buzzing with sudden excitement. “This is one of my favourite films!” 

When he looks at Gaara, it's to find him watching Lee with that subtle smile on his face. “That's good.” 

A sudden wave of nervous energy washes over Lee and he grins, anxiety making his voice tremble as he asks, “Did you... want to watch it with me?” 

It's not as though he's asking Gaara on an actual, proper date. He can't be asking him on a date because they're stuck for another nine hours on a flight to Los Angeles with no way for Gaara to reject Lee and not leave things awkward. But Lee still feels as though he's asking him out and that alone is enough to make his skin heat with embarrassment. 

Gaara glances down at his notes, a thoughtful look crossing his face. He sets his things down, leaning back in his seat. “Sure.”

The simple response makes Lee want to shout with joy, but he manages to contain his reaction to a simple, “Great!” 

He pulls out a set of headphones from his pocket, handing one earbud to Gaara. The brush of Gaara's fingers against Lee's makes his skin tingle and forces a giddy smile onto his face that he simply has no hope of fighting. 

Because of the earbuds and the screen, they are forced to sit close with Gaara leaning into Lee's personal space. Lee reminds himself that he did not ask Gaara on a date as he pushes the play button and settles in to watch the film. 

________________________________________________

As soon as the credits begin rolling on the film, Lee stands up. 

A good martial arts film always gets his blood pumping, but more than needing to stretch his legs, he needs to use the facilities. 

“I will be right back!” he declares, nearly gyrating with pent up energy. “Perhaps we could watch something else—unless of course you needed to continue your work!”

“It's not a pressing issue.” Gaara had packed up his work within the first twenty minutes of the film, focusing completely on the story and watching the fighting with earnest interest, his startling eyes flickering back and forth as though cataloging every kick, every punch, ever dodge. 

“It's hard to believe that someone can fight like that while drunk,” he'd said at one point. 

Lee's responding laugh had been a bit strained, as though he'd been caught in a lie. “It is a real fighting style, although you do not actually need to drink for it.” 

“Is it a style you've studied?” 

“You could say I am a natural at the drunken fist style,” he had said vaguely. 

Gaara's gaze had been disbelieving. “You'll have to show me sometime.” 

Lee had been beside himself, overcome by the implication that after their flight they might see each other again. “I would like that.” 

Of course, Lee had no intentions of actually drinking if he did get the chance to show Gaara his skills, but he could still execute an impressive drunken style without alcohol, and it would save him the stress of potential property damage or embarrassment. Who knows what things he'd say to Gaara while under the influence! 

There is a line for the bathroom that keeps Lee from getting back to his seat quickly. Since there's little else he can do, he stretches his legs while he waits, pulling his right foot up to rest flat against his backside for a ten count and then mimicking the stretch with the other side. The aisle is spacious enough, but Lee doesn't want to draw attention to himself or bother anyone around him, so he sticks to light stretches—just something to work out the stiffness in his legs and the pent up energy flowing through him. 

By the time he's able to use the bathroom, he feels a little less like a ticking time bomb, and is already thinking about other films he'd like to show Gaara between planning the best way to ask him out on a proper date. As he's washing his hands, the plane jerks violently sending him careening into the door. The sudden jolt of the plane is followed immediately by an urgent ding and the cool voice of a flight attendant crackling over the speakers. 

“Attention passengers, we'll be experiencing some turbulence due to heavy winds. For your safety we ask that you please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. Dinner will be served as soon as it's safe to move about the cabin.” 

Lee barrels down the aisle and back to his seat just in time for the announcement's end.

Gaara is sitting ramrod straight and gripping the armrests of his seat for all he's worth. He looks even paler than before and he's clenching his jaw so tight it makes Lee's ache in sympathy.

“I am back!” Lee's voice is loud boom in the packed airplane, startling Gaara and making him tense up further. Lee plops into his seat with an apologetic smile. He hopes that by acting as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening he could assuage some of Gaara's anxiety. “I was thinking about other movies that you might like—”

“I don't want to watch a movie,” Gaara says through clenched teeth. 

“Not even to distract you from the...” Lee gestures, flapping his hands in a poor approximation of the shaking of the plane. 

Gaara clenches his jaw. “No.” 

“Oh! What about a game? I brought a Hanafuda deck! Maybe that would help you to relax?” 

Gaara tilts his head back, staring into the reading light above his head with narrowed eyes. After a few tense seconds of silence, his jaw relaxes. “Fine.” 

Lee jumps up immediately, moving to the overhead compartment to dig through his carry-on. The echoing zip of the metal teeth is punctuated by the trembling of the cabin, and Lee hastens to open his luggage. He frowns, unearthing an unfamiliar shirt adorned with tiny cacti. He stuffs it back into the bag, as though by returning it from whence it had come he could change the contents of the bag. He grabs hold of something hard and square, and pulls it from the bag. It turns out to be just a small travel guide. “Huh.” 

Another suitcase, the same plain black as the one he's mistaken for his, sits in the compartment and he quickly checks that one for his things. Sure enough, there is his beloved training suit—something he was not willing to risk losing on the off chance his luggage did go astray—a collection of Bruce Lee films, and sticking out of the leg warmers Gai had knitted him is the Hanafuda deck. He quickly zips up the suitcase he'd mistaken for his, grabs the cards, and zips up his own bag. 

The plane gives an almighty lurch, sending him stumbling into the seat across from his. The person there gives a startled yell, shoving at him, though not particularly rudely. 

“I am so sorry!” He bows his way back into his seat, an embarrassed flush heating his face. 

Once again settled, Lee finds that Gaara is back to clenching his jaw. He wants to reach over and sooth him somehow. He shakes the thought away, pulling down the food tray in the seatback before him. 

“I used to play this a lot with my mentor, but it has been quite sometime so I may be rusty.” He splits the deck in two, arching the cards until they cascade towards each other in a neat shuffle. “This deck used to be his actually. It has been in his family for three generations, I think.” 

“Why did he give it to you?” 

“Because I am like a son to him,” Lee says with a grin. “He does not have children of his own. He does have a lot of dogs though! But I do not imagine they would have any appreciation for a card game. Do you mind if I deal first?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Lee begins to set up the tray for a game of koi-koi. It's been so long since he's played that he stops to stare at the different cards as he lays them face up. He's forgotten how beautiful this deck is, and it makes him smile to remember all the times he'd stayed late at the dojo. His foster family had been less than present in his life, and the dojo had become more of a home to him than his own: Gai, in turn, had become like the father he'd wished for instead of the foster father he'd had. 

“Are you all right?” 

Lee realizes, belated and embarrassed, that tears have sprung to his eyes. “Excuse me,” he says, wiping them away and returning to dealing. “I was just thinking about my mentor.” 

“He must be really important to you.” Gaara's voice is distant with sorrow, a hidden confusion beneath the statement and a longing in his eyes. 

Lee wants to know what could have brought this on, but he doesn't know if Gaara would be willing to share the answer, and he doesn't want to push. They still barely know one another and Lee doesn't want to ruin what progress he's made. He knows through experience that not everyone likes oversharing—his best friend, Neji, is probably as taciturn as Gaara, and had been just as closed off before Tenten had come into their lives. 

“Ready?” Lee finishes dealing as the plane gives another jerk, sending half the draw pile sliding into Gaara's lap and scattering the face-up cards on the table in front of Lee. 

Lee and Gaara do their best to gather up the cards, but another lurch of the plane sends more cards fluttering to the floor, forcing Lee to bend down before anything happens to them. The turbulence is proving more of a challenge than he'd initially expected when he'd suggested playing a game, but he's determined to find a way to make it work. 

“Hang on,” Lee says, gathering up the cards before another jerk of the plane can send more flying away from him. He places the draw deck back in the card box, setting that on the armrest between them. He deals out the cards once more, leaning close. “There! Hopefully that works.” 

Surprisingly, it does. Though the plane jerks and trembles, rocks and jolts, they manage to keep a steady game going, and the first round goes to Gaara. 

“I think my deck likes you,” Lee tells him, shuffling the deck and handing it to Gaara. “Would you like to deal?” 

Gaara accepts the deck in silence, still looking pale with anxiety, but holding less tension in his jaw now. Lee counts that as a win, watching with no small amount of interest as Gaara's hands deftly deal out the cards. 

“Do you play a lot?” Lee asks.

“No.” 

Lee fumbles for a response. “Well, you are very dexterous! You shuffle like a pro!” 

“I'm good with my hands.” Gaara's gaze flicks to Lee's. His voice is the same flat monotone it's been their entire conversation, but Lee notices one pale eyebrow move, rising a fraction on his forehead. It's a subtle change in his expression, hardly even a proper raise of his eyebrow, but the effect it has on his face is hard to miss sitting so close together. 

Lee's face immediately heats, and he forces his mind not to run away with implications. He doesn't want to read into anything, and he certainly doesn't want to get his hopes up. “O-oh, well, so am I! But probably in a different way. I imagine you have to be very gentle when taking care of plants, but my hands are a bit clumsy,” he babbles, holding up his hands. “They are strong, but a bit too big to be gentle!” 

His breathing is coming a bit too quickly as he fights down embarrassment, but he manages a crooked smile, his hand still held up for Gaara's examination.

“Certain things need a strong, steady hand,” Gaara murmurs. Lee realizes, as Gaara's gaze narrows to catlike consideration, that all of Gaara's expression is in his eyes. There is a wealth of emotion hidden beneath the dark circles that tell of sleepless nights, and the pale green of his eyes reflects multitudes that Gaara's face doesn't.

Lee is certain that he could cook an egg on his face at that very moment. Gaara's scrutiny makes his skin prickle with heat and his heart race in his chest. His brain grinds to a halt, and articulation flies out the plane's windows without so much as a parachute to save it. 

“Uhhhh...” 

“Ready,” Gaara says, placing the final card face up on the little table between them with a significant plop. 

Lee jerks, tearing his gaze away from Gaara's to stare down at the cards on the table. His knowledge of Hanafuda is gone in an instant, his brain still stuck on Gaara's words and the look he'd given Lee. The gears in his mind whir and grind against the unexpected jam, and Lee's face only burns all the more for it as he stares at the deck and Gaara's pale hand, resting casually on the seat rest, long fingers hovering near Lee's thigh. If he shifts just right, Gaara's fingers will graze the loose cotton of his pants, and the thought makes Lee shiver. 

“Do you want me to start?” Gaara's voice brings Lee back to the present.

“S-sure!” 

Gaara takes the round with such ease, Lee wonders if perhaps he's cheated somehow. 

“I think you are lying,” Lee manages, all his embarrassment finally gone in the wake of his loss. “I bet you play this all the time.” 

The corner of Gaara's mouth curls into a tiny, amused grin, and his gaze slides—so, so slowly—to Lee. Lee has never seen anything so attractive. “I'm not lying. My siblings don't like games like this, so I wouldn't have anyone to play with.” 

“You have siblings?” Lee asks, caught between this new fact about Gaara and the way his mouth moves when he talks.

Gaara's smile falters slightly, but he moves seamlessly, shuffling the deck of cards again with those long, nimble fingers. “A sister and a brother. They're older than me.” 

“I have always wanted siblings,” Lee says, because he can see the hesitation in Gaara's eyes. He can't decide if Gaara doesn't like talking about himself because he's a private person, or if there's more to it. His best friend had hated talking about himself because eventually it always came back to his home life—living with his horrible uncle and his younger cousins had taken a toll on him, and it wasn't for want of privacy, but for lack of trust in others that he'd kept to himself. 

“It's nice, but it wasn't always that way,” Gaara says. “We didn't get along when I was young.” 

“I am sorry to hear that,” Lee says, mustering up every ounce of sincerity that he can. 

“It was our father's fault,” Gaara admits. The playful mischief in his eyes moments before has disappeared, and he stares intently down at the deck of cards as he deals them. 

“Did you—you do not have to tell me, but did you not have a good relationship with your father?” 

“No.” The word comes like a killing blow. Lee is certain that if Gaara had the power to end a life with a single word, his father would have dropped dead on the instant. “It's fine, though. He's dead now.” 

Or perhaps he would have resurrected his father to kill him all over again. Lee's imagination runs wild with all manner of reasons for Gaara's tone—his father had been yakuza and his work had turned him cold and callous; his father had lied, and in actuality, Gaara and his siblings had been kidnapped—and he shakes away the thoughts quickly. He doesn't need to know—and he certainly doesn't need to make up a reason. What he does know, though, is that he hates Gaara's father for whatever pain he'd caused him. 

“I did not know my dad,” Lee admits. “My parents died a year after I was born, so I went into the foster system—if you could call it that,” he adds bitterly. “The people who adopted me were... not kind.” 

There are far more colorful things he'd like to say about his foster parents, but he doesn't want to dump all that on Gaara, and he doesn't want to make the conversation all about him—though a part of him is sure Gaara would actually prefer that.

“I can see why your mentor is so important to you then.” 

Lee is momentarily caught off-guard, but he recovers quickly. “He was the only adult in my life who cared about me,” he says, and the admission is almost too much. He shakes himself, forcing away tears and fighting against the sudden tightness in his throat. 

“My uncle was like that,” Gaara says. “He was the only one...” 

The quiet ding overhead reminds Lee where they are, and the voice that echoes over the speakers puts a halt to their conversation. 

“Attention passengers, it is now safe to move about the cabin. Dinner will be served shortly.” 

________________________________________________

Two plates worth of food, which he'd had to special order, steam in front of him. He'd almost ordered a third plate, but then thought better of it. He hadn't wanted to inconvenience his seat-buddy or the flight attendants by being difficult. 

Gaara, for his part, is staring at Lee's double-order almost enviously. “Why do you have two plates?” 

“I ordered them,” Lee says, glancing down at Gaara's. “Oh, what is that?” 

“It's the lactose-free meal.” Gaara looks down at his food, heaving a sigh. “I wanted the standard meal, but it had cheese.” 

“Oh, are you lactose-intolerant?” 

“A bit,” Gaara says, prodding at the food on his plate. “I can have yogurt, but I don't drink dairy milk or cheese. Your food looks good.” 

“Did you want some? I got two different meals: the standard in-flight meal and the seafood meal! I have a big appetite.” 

Gaara considers Lee's food for a moment. “What kind of seafood is it?” 

“This is just salmon! There is salmon over rice, there is seaweed salad—”

“Can I have some seaweed salad?” 

“Absolutely!” Lee holds out the little bowl of salad for Gaara. “Help yourself!” 

The brush of Gaara's fingers against Lee's feels intimate. Gaara punctuates this feeling by meeting Lee's gaze, letting his fingers linger longer than necessary before placing the little bowl on his own plate. “Thanks.” 

Lee tries not to think too hard on the gesture, but it's difficult with Gaara sitting next to him. His arm is still resting on the rest between them, not quite taking up the entire thing, as if to tempt Lee to place his arm there too. Lee dithers over whether or not he should give in to temptation—if that's what Gaara wants or if he's, once again, reading too much into something—before finally throwing caution to the wind. 

Gaara's arm is cool against the warmth of Lee's, and his skin is soft. Goosebumps dot the space where Lee's arm presses against his, and Lee wonders if it's because of him or because Gaara seems to run cold. 

They eat for five minutes in silence—it's not tense, but something unspoken ripples between them. It is comfortable and uncomfortable all at once, and Lee wants to prod at whatever it is. He can't decide if he should speak and break the moment, but Gaara saves him the trouble of figuring that out for himself. 

“We should watch another movie.” It's possible he meant it as a gentle suggestion, but it's delivered as an abrupt command. The not-quite tension between them snaps like a rubber band. 

“What would you like to watch?” Lee begins swiping through the seatback screen, scrolling through films. 

“I don't care.” 

Lee slows the steady scrolling, trying to spot something familiar that he thinks Gaara might enjoy when a thought occurs to him. Despite his favorite genre of film being martial arts, he is a romantic at heart, and romance films are an indulgence of his that he hardly ever has occasion to share with another. He's not sure how likely it is that he'll find a gay romance on the flight—if he has to, he'll settle for a straight romance—but he crosses his fingers and hopes for the best as he hits the search option.

The light of the screen brightens and dims as he flips from one page to another, worrying his lip as he goes through a mental list of some of his favorite films. There aren't as many familiar titles as he'd hoped, and most are as straight as the rokushakubō still on display in his apartment back home. Eventually, he stops scrolling when he sees a vaguely familiar title. 

“Oh, I heard about this,” he says, mostly to himself. “Tenten said I would like it.” 

He clicks the film and settles in as it begins to play. The movie—Ai no Kotodama—is about two young men who have been secretly dating for years when an old high school friend returns to their life. The main character—who as Tenten put it, was just Lee's type—is a quiet, introverted man, who doesn't make friends easily, and is overcome by jealousy over past rumors that his boyfriend and this former schoolmate dated once upon a time. Lee cannot help that he has a type, and if he picks the film because the protagonist reminds him a little bit of Gaara, he hopes it's at least not obvious.

As the movie starts, Lee is keenly aware of Gaara's arm pressed against his, and despite his earlier assertion that watching a film on a plane couldn't possibly count as a date, he suddenly feels as nervous as if he's on a first date and trying to make a good impression. 

The one problem with all this is that, unless he says something, he'll never know if Gaara feels that same nervous energy and excitement; he'll never know if maybe this random happenstance could end in a first kiss and a second date. 

________________________________________________

Lee yawns, his plates of food stacked with Gaara's and set to one side for the flight attendants to easily dispose of.

The film had enveloped him in a sense of contentment, and the late hour has made him delirious with sleep. However, Gaara's presence at his side has him fighting to stay awake, determined to get as much time with Gaara as he can. He still hasn't worked up the nerve to ask Gaara out on a proper date, partly because he wants to wait until they land so that they can part ways quickly if the answer is 'no'.

Lee is almost certain it will not be, but that 0.001% of him that doubts Gaara is interested in him is somehow stronger than the rest, and he is still working up the nerve to ask when they land. They still have hours before they land, though, so Lee figures he has plenty of time to work himself into a brave frenzy and come up with something truly romantic to say. 

He yawns again. 

“You should sleep,” Gaara tells him, gentle but firm, and a little bit fondly exasperated. 

Lee makes a sleepy sound, shifting in his seat, leaning his head back against the cushioned seat and staring at Gaara. “I am—” Another yawn interrupts him, and he flushes. “I am fine, really.” 

Gaara gives Lee a skeptical look, his gaze tinged with endearment, Lee thinks. He wonders if it's possible for two people to fall in love over the span of eleven and a half hours, a sleepy smile on his face and his eyes fluttering as he fights the pull of exhaustion. 

“I'll put on another movie.” Gaara reaches for the screen, tapping the search function. Lee watches his profile, illuminated by the light of the screen. Most of the overhead lights of the plane are off now as people begin to curl up to rest, but Lee's kept his on in the hopes that its artificial brightness will keep him awake. So far, it's not doing a great job of that. 

The noise of the film blares in the headphones he's sharing with Gaara, sending him jerking in his seat, his eyes snapping open. 

Gaara hums, almost as though he's shushing Lee. The sound is soothing, and the familiarity of it makes Lee feel warm. An absurd thought crosses his mind as the movie begins—perhaps he and Gaara knew each other in a past life, perhaps they were lovers, perhaps they had a love so powerful it could span lifetimes—and Lee giggles to himself, drawing Gaara's gaze to him. 

“Is something funny?” 

Lee covers his mouth with his hands, trying to fight the giggles. He is exhausted, but he is not so far gone that he will let slip this passing fancy. “I am just sleepy.” 

“I never would have guessed,” Gaara deadpans. He settles against the seat, his arm pressing against Lee's again, so close their shoulders brush now. 

Lee watches Gaara, tuning out the movie in favor of watching the light of changing scenes cascade across Gaara's face. His eyes droop for a moment, his head listing before he snaps it back up, eyes forced wide. Gaara's gaze slides to him for a moment, an amused smile on his face, though he remains quiet. 

Lee presses his arm closer, another sleepy noise escaping him as he shifts. Gaara's arm is warm from their shared contact, and Lee's tired mind wants to wrap himself in the feeling of it. He doesn't usually like to sleep with blankets or even clothing, but Gaara's warmth is different—it's comforting and gentle, like the perfect spring day—and he can't help but move closer.

By now, Lee is only half-aware that he is openly staring at Gaara, his eyes so wide the air dries them out. He doesn't care—or rather, he's too tired to care. He blinks slowly, the dark of his eyelids chasing Gaara from his vision for long, lingering moments before he fights to open them again. 

His headphone falls out of his ear, and the rumble of the plane's engine and the white noise of the cabin fills his mind. Gaara's face slips away behind the curtain of Lee's eyelids once more, and Lee is distantly aware of his head listing to one side. He grumbles sleepily, adjusting so that he's more comfortable in the confined space. 

There is a warm, soothing chuckle above him, and a cool hand touches his tenderly. Lee sighs, content like a house cat in the sun. 

Lee smiles, pressing his face into the warm shoulder beside him and breathing deep. He is transported to a garden, to a bed of grass, and he drifts to sleep with that smile still on his face.


	4. Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee is an idiot. He should have known that a man as attractive as Gaara would have a boyfriend. Still, maybe they could try to be friends...? But when he sees Gaara in the arms of another man, he chickens out. It's not until he gets home that he realizes he's made another mistake and fate is giving him another chance.

“Lee.” 

The gentle murmur of his name in a low, unfamiliar tenor whispers its way into Lee's subconscious. The vague impression of his dream fades, already so fragmented and liquid, and he slips into the darkness of waking. He shifts, an ache in his lower back and his arm numb, grumbling his dissent. 

“Lee, wake up.” 

There is something familiar about that voice now. It catches like a hook in his heart and tugs, and Lee's eyes flutter open. His cheek rests against a bony shoulder, and tendrils of red hair fill his vision. He blinks slowly, his mind still muddled with sleep. 

A cheery ding echoes around him. “Flight attendants, prepare for landing.” 

The roar of the plane's engine flood his senses and a clunking sound vibrates throughout as the plane's wheels deploy. 

“Finally awake?” Gaara's toneless voice is laced with amusement. 

Lee looks up from where he rests his head, still on Gaara's shoulder. He blinks through the haze of half-sleep, before jerking upright, a burning heat in his face. “I am so sorry!” 

Gaara's smile, soft and warm, falters. “It's fine.” 

Belatedly, Lee realizes he's made a mistake. “I—I am glad. I would hate to—to invade your personal space and make you uncomfortable,” he tries, hoping to see that smile return. 

It doesn't. Gaara turns away, looking out the open window where the honey-gold light of the sun comes through. It shimmers on the water, a side of the Pacific that Lee has never seen and that should captivate him, but all he wants is for Gaara to look back at him and smile. It's all a terrible misunderstanding, a faux pas that will dog him for weeks if he can't make things right. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Another poor attempt at smoothing things over. 

“No.” What Lee has grown accustomed to in Gaara's flat tone is missing, replaced by the distant annoyance of their first encounter. 

“I am sorry if I kept you up.” Guilt stings his skin, making his face burn with warmth and his eyes ache with unshed tears. “You could have woken me.” 

“It wasn't you.” Gaara looks at him askance, his expression difficult to decipher, his eyes more guarded than they'd been before Lee's nap. 

Lee doesn't know what to say in response to this. There's no doubt in his mind that Gaara has trouble sleeping—the deep bruises around his eyes are so dark they look almost like rings of eyeliner and are impossible to miss—but he doesn't know if there's some darker secret hidden away like fragmented bones in an unused closet. 

“Well, it was not the most comfortable nap,” Lee admits, trying to work out the crick in his back. His joints give a satisfying pop, and he settles back into his seat with a sigh as the inertia of the plane pushes against him. “I will be glad to have a proper bed to sleep in tonight. I bet you must be looking forward to getting to your hotel for a nap.”

“I'm not staying in a hotel.” Gaara fiddles with the armrest, pressing a button so that his seat returns to its upright position. “You should put your seat up?” 

“Huh?” Lee turns, checking the difference in elevation between his seat and Gaara's. “I do not remember doing that.” 

Quietly, as though he doesn't want to admit it, Gaara says, “I moved your seat for you. I thought it would be more comfortable.” 

Lee is flush with an affection that shouldn't be as overwhelming as it is, and his smile reflects it like the water reflects the sun. “That was so kind of you. Thank you.” 

There is a pink stain across the bridge of Gaara's nose and the high bones of his cheeks, but he still doesn't smile. “I'm sorry it didn't help much.” 

“That is not your fault! I am sure I would have been even less comfortable if you had not been so thoughtful.” There is a sadness in the tilt of Gaara's head, his gaze averted, and his eyes downcast. Lee wants to fix whatever he's said to upset him, but he doesn't know the right words. 

The plane rumbles, engines loud enough that it makes it hard to hear, but Gaara doesn't seem to want to talk anymore.  


________________________________________________

The plane touches down, bouncing along the tarmac, it's wheels skidding heavily as the momentum of the plane is slowed. Gaara's fingers are white-knuckled on the armrest, and—from what little of his face Lee can see—his jaw clenched. His hands do no relax until the plane slows to a relatively sedate crawl and the roar of the engines dies down to a gentle hum. 

Lee glances to Gaara's hands every few seconds. He wants to reach out and comfort Gaara, but their twenty minute descent had been filled with a tense silence, and after accidentally napping on Gaara, he doesn't want to push it. They are still veritable strangers, and eleven hours of sitting together isn't going to change that. 

If Lee wants to change that, he needs to say something and soon, because once they're off the plane, he may never see Gaara again.

Regret settles in his stomach, like a lead weight, at having fallen asleep and missed the last five or so hours of his time with Gaara. He could have spent that time getting to know him better, or figuring out a sufficiently romantic way of asking Gaara out without coming across as desperate or weird. He is still hung up on the fact that they only just met, and he knows he can be rather intense, and he doesn't want to make Gaara uncomfortable, or ruin the possibility of a future friendship. 

He's so wrapped up in fretting over the best way to ask Gaara out—does he ask for just his phone number so there's no romantic pressure or does he just outright ask him out to dinner?—that he completely misses the fact that they've stopped taxiing. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Los Angeles, California. Local time is 1:44pm and the weather is a warm 77 degrees. We thank you so much for flying with Japan Airlines, and we hope you'll join us on your next flight to Japan. Have a great day.” 

Around him, the clacking of buckles and the rustling of bodies whispers around them, followed by the sleepy mumbling of passengers ready to get to their destinations. Lee's internal clock is telling him it's time to get breakfast and head to the gym, so he assumes it's probably early morning back home in Japan. He can't remember exactly what the time difference is between LA and Tokyo, but he knows it's nearly a full day. 

Beside him, Gaara shifts, opening his phone as it buzzes in his hand. 

“Hello, Naruto,” Gaara answers. The fondness in his voice makes Lee's ears burn, and he fights not to turn and look at Gaara. “I told you the flight was delayed. Yeah, I know. We're about to exit the plane—what? _No,_ I did not.” Gaara huffs. “Good-bye, Naruto.” 

He ends the call, glaring down at the caller-ID photo, which shows a man with striking blue eyes and golden blonde hair. The man—Naruto, Lee has to assume—is grinning brightly, one arm slung around Gaara's shoulder and his hand in a peace sign. Though Gaara looks annoyed in the photo, there's a clear joy in his eyes. Lee's skin grows hot with jealousy, the warm bubble he'd kept alive throughout their flight popping just like that. 

It's stupid to be upset over Gaara having a boyfriend—he really shouldn't have deluded himself into thinking that he had a chance, but the realization is still crushing. He quickly gets to his feet, hurrying to grab his bag from the overhead compartment, hardly paying attention to those around him. 

“Excuse me,” he mumbles as he bumps into a woman. 

Gaara watches Lee from his seat, his expression almost guarded. “In a hurry?” 

Lee's throat goes suddenly tight, and he quickly says, “I just need to use the restroom! That was a long flight!” 

He doesn't want to cry—the burn of his eyes makes him almost mad—but he'd gotten his hopes up so completely that he feels just a little brokenhearted. If his best friends were here, they would tell him to quit being unreasonable, but there isn't a single voice of reason to bring him down from the feelings that grip him and fighting not to cry is close to becoming a losing battle. 

“It was really wonderful flying with you,” Lee says, bowing to Gaara. Someone pushes past him, sending him falling forward into Gaara's lap. He yelps, jumping up and hitting his head with a resounding thunk on the overhead light. “Ouchhhh!” He hisses, clutching at his bruised head. 

“Are you all right?” Gaara asks, half rising from his seat, hands extended. 

Lee's eyes water, but he manages a nod, wincing all the same. “Yes, just—just a little sore. I will be all right.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely!” He gives Gaara a thumbs up, hoping it's more convincing than the tears sliding down his face.

Gaara gives him a doubtful look, but he doesn't press the issue, rising to his feet and following Lee out into the aisle. Lee holds up traffic, dithering between making a break for it to avoid the heartache of his dashed hopes and not wanting to throw away the chance at friendship. 

“Hurry up!” someone shouts behind them. 

Lee throws a glare over his shoulder, moving through the isle reluctantly and leaving Gaara behind to retrieve his own belongings. He glances back at Gaara once, watching him reach for his suitcase, his profile a hard scowl. 

By the time Lee makes it to the bathroom—he really did have to go, after all—he is berating himself for letting his feelings get the better of him. 

“Maybe I will see him at baggage claim,” he tries to cheer himself up. He punches his open palm, a determined scowl reflected back at him in the bathroom mirror. That's it: he's going to set aside his moping and go find Gaara, ask him if they can be friends, and accept that romance simply hadn't been meant for them. 

With a decisive nod, he wheels his carry-on out of the bathroom, making for baggage claim. 

________________________________________________

Baggage claim is a chaotic mess of people confused over where to go for their bags. Lee spots a screen as the flight number changes, announcing flight GL8118 from Narita, and Lee makes a beeline for it. His bags—with an array of brightly colored tags marked 'OVERWEIGHT'—are the first out, making their presence known with a loud thud and a clang as his weights bang about within. He snatches his bags, one after other, hoisting them from the carousel and darting away from the crowd. 

He finds a spot nearby where he is sufficiently out of the way but still has a good view of the crowd. He scans his fellow passengers from Narita, searching for that familiar head of currant-colored hair. The crowd is overwhelming and the noise of the airport is a cacophony of words that Lee cannot grasp. He hears snatches of English that he vaguely understands, and it mixes with the sound of Japanese and a few other languages he can't identify. 

The international baggage claim is a sea of people, but no where does he see that lush red of Gaara's hair and disappointment begins to creep into the set of his shoulders. 

“GAAAAA-RAAAAAA!!!!!” A gravely voice echoes over the noise of the airport, loud as a bullhorn, and Lee whips around, searching frantically for Gaara. 

At the exit, just beneath a sign in a variety of languages and adorned with arrows pointing every which way, Lee's eyes alight on Gaara's familiar figure—

Enveloped in the arms of that same blonde man—Nattō, or something—who'd called Gaara just after landing. 

All of Lee's determination to talk to Gaara evaporates on the instant. He can't possibly go up to him and ask him for his phone number in front of his boyfriend—even if, at this point, all he expects out of it is a friendship. It would be rude to insert himself into their reunion, and Lee didn't fancy turning his rejection into a spectacle. The last time he'd asked someone out publicly had been in middle school, and he'd been laughed at something silly. It would be far worse to go through that shame and humiliation as an adult, though. 

With one last, longing glance at Gaara—who was still being gripped in a tight hug, his expression greatly put-upon—Lee turned away, making for the nearest exit, laden down with his luggage and a broken heart. 

________________________________________________

LA is hot and dry, and the air is thick and oppressive. He coughs lightly in the backseat of his taxi, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He doesn't want the driver to notice the redness of his eyes or the tear stains on his face, which dried almost too quickly the moment he'd stepped outside and into the hot California sun. 

He supposes the heat isn't actually that bad—he'd certainly experienced hotter days back home—but the air is stifling with all it's oppressive dryness. Lee cannot wait to get to his apartment, at the very least to get out of the heat, but mostly so he can wallow in self-pity in peace. 

The drive to his apartment is filled with bumper-to-bumper traffic, and he watches the price on the meter tick higher in higher in growing trepidation. His GPS had said it would take just under an hour to get from the airport to his new home in West Hollywood, but it turns out 'under an hour' in LA is much closer to two hours—and it is definitely not worth the eighty dollar cab fair, (one-hundred once Lee's remembered to tip). All in all, by the time he's arrived outside of his new apartment, Lee's mood has dropped significantly and all he wants to do is collapse onto a bed. 

“This is...” Lee looks down at the slip of paper he'd written his new address on, then back up to the building itself. It's an ugly, boxy building in various of shades of gray with a single L of red trim highlighting the leasing office. It's certainly not much from the outside, but hopefully the interior would be as nice as the photos he'd seen. 

It takes almost another hour to get his key sorted out, which is yet another stress on top of an already stressful day, so when he finally steps inside his new apartment, he doesn't even bother to appreciate the furnishings or decorations. He simply drops his things and makes a beeline for the bed—situated in one corner of the spacious studio and completely devoid of any actual bedding—and collapses directly onto it. There isn't a pillow for him to shove his face into and cry, so he drags himself out of the bed and slumps his way back to his luggage. 

Tired and mopey as he is, however, once he's up he decides to properly get ready for bed instead of wallowing in self-pity. After all that traveling, a good night's rest will hopefully help him reset—mentally, physically, and emotionally—so he begins to rummage through his various bags in search of his personal hygiene products. He finds his face wash and pillow in his largest suitcase, but his toothbrush and toothpaste are missing in action. It's not until he's gone through every single piece of checked luggage that he remembers he'd put it in his carry-on so he could brush his teeth before sleeping on the plane. 

Of course, he hadn't expected to share a row with a handsome stranger, and once he'd become enamored with Gaara, all thoughts of dental hygiene had fled his mind. 

“Here we go,” Lee says, plopping the little suitcase onto its back and unzipping it with a flourish. All he wants is for his mouth to feel fresh, to clean his face, to strip down, and become one with his new bed. He doesn't even care about exercising. He just wants to sleep, and maybe forget all about ever meeting—

The contents of the little suitcase do not look anything like what he expects. The contents of the suitcase are all unfamiliar, save for a balled up shirt adorned with cactus shoved into one corner and a tiny travel guide haphazardly sticking up from the rest of the suitcase's contents. Lee's stomach drops. 

“Oh, no,” he groans. 

Fate has played a cruel joke on him. Fate is laughing at him. 

Or—a thought dawns on him, as luminescent as the artificial-sun light bulbs in all the fixtures of his apartment—what if Fate is giving him a second chance? 

Lee frenetically begins to search the contents of the bag, hoping to find something within containing contact information: a phone number, an email address, _anything_ that could help him find Gaara. But there's nothing. The contents of the bag are entirely devoid of any personal information, and Lee is forced to give up with a heavy sigh as he zips the bag up and returns it to its upright position to consider what to do. 

It is then that he notices the front zipper pocket holds a slot for a luggage tag—a luggage tag that is completely filled out in a slanted scrawl with all the information Lee could possibly need. 

He gives a whoop of victory, jumping to his feet. He's so happy he could run twenty laps around the city—he doesn't stop to wonder how large Hollywood actually is—but settles for dancing around the open space of his studio. He does several laps around the living room/bedroom, twirling and shimmying his heart out, before he finally settles down.

It's been a long day, and even if the sun is only barely starting to set on California, Lee's bone tired and ready for a restful night's sleep. 

He goes to bed as golden light filters into his room, hiding a smile in his pillow instead of tears.


	5. Baggage Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's definitely not a date. He's just meeting Gaara for lunch so they can exchange luggage. Sure it's a fancy LA restaurant, sure Gaara tells him to dress nice. But that doesn't mean anything. Does it?

Lee should be unpacking his things and getting familiar with his new apartment, but instead he spends his morning staring at Gaara's contact information, typing his phone number into the keypad, and then canceling the whole thing entirely. 

Obviously, he knows he has to call Gaara. He can't just keep his things forever because he's embarrassed. And he needs his own things back—after all, his carry-on had contained some of his most prized possessions! He absolutely has to call, and he definitely will... After he's worked up the nerve, of course. 

It takes him all morning—which is probably for the best, because his mornings start right at 5:30am—before he finally hits the send button. He hands up almost immediately, not giving the other end time to so much as ring. 

“You can do this,” he tells himself, clenching one hand in a fist. He holds the phone close to his face, its light shining directly into his eyes, and presses the highlighted phone number that he now has memorized. He really shouldn't have spent so much time that morning trying to call. 

The phone rings. 

And rings. 

And rings. 

Eventually, it goes to voicemail. He doesn't even get to hear Gaara's voice as confirmation that he's called the wrong number, because the outgoing message is automated. 

Lee hangs up and calls again. 

And again. 

And again. 

The phone goes to voicemail every time, and each time it does Lee's heart pounds with more intensity. 

Finally, on the fifth try, an annoyed voice answers, familiar even through the crackling tininess of his phone's speaker.

_“What?”_

Lee holds the phone away from his face, as though the word itself is an attack. He braces himself, taking in a deep breath. “H-hello, Gaara-san? This is Rock Lee. From the airplane!” 

There's a heavy silence, filled with static, followed by a huff of air. _“Lee?_

Gaara's voice is filled with quiet bafflement, and beneath that, carefully hidden, excitement. But maybe that's just wishful thinking on Lee's part. 

“Yes! Hello!” Lee cannot stop the smile that splits his face. He's bubbling over at hearing Gaara's voice, at knowing he might get to see him again, so excited that he's completely forgotten—

“Lee?!?!” a scratchy voice in the background calls. “Ohhh! Gaara's bo—”

“Shut up, Naruto,” Gaara growls, and there's a scuffle in the background of the call, then the sound of rustling and a door sliding open and shut. “Sorry about that. How did you get my number?” 

“Oh! We confused our carry-on bags at the airport yesterday! I was in such a hurry, I did not even realize until I arrived at my new apartment.” Lee laughs, toeing at the bag in question. “I really should have paid more attention. I am so sorry for the mishap! I was hoping—I mean, I was wondering, would you like to meet me to exchange our things?” 

The phone line buzzes, the silence stretching so long Lee pulls his phone back to check that the call hasn't dropped. “Hello?” 

“Yes,” Gaara says hastily. “Yeah, I'd—I'd like that. We could—we could grab lunch somewhere.” 

Lee's heart nearly bursts. His chest swells with excitement and his smile grows somehow wider. “I would love that! Where are you staying? I am living in West Hollywood.” 

“Hang on.” The sound of a door sliding open again echoes through the speaker, and Lee hears Gaara's voice again, muffled this time. “How close is West Hollywood to here?” 

“Eh? West Hollywood? That's like, an hour if you're lucky. With traffic it'll be longer though.” 

“I can drive to meet him.” 

“Oi! Who said you could borrow my ca—okay, okay! Sheesh, calm down!” 

Gaara's voice is clearer as he says, “I can meet you.” 

Lee has to stop himself from shouting with excitement. He does a little jig, shaking out the excited energy before he says, a little breathlessly into the phone, “That is wonderful!” 

“I'll ask Naruto if he has any recommendations for restaurants,” Gaara says. “I'll text you later.” 

“Oh—okay!” Lee is a bit thrown by the sudden shift in Gaara's tone. Not that he'd really expected them to spend hours talking on the phone, but he hadn't expected the conversation to end quite so abruptly. “I will look forward to your text!” 

“Ohhhh! Gaara's got a—”

The call ends so abruptly that Lee worries Gaara may have broken his phone in his haste to hang up. He fumbles with his phone for a moment, watching as his screen declares the call length. Unhelpful thoughts begin to clog his mind, old insecurities rearing their ugly heads. 

What if Gaara didn't really want to see him? What if he'd ended the call so quickly because he found Lee annoying? What if this Naruto shows up and can tell that Lee has a crush on his boyfriend? 

He shakes his head violently. “Stop it!”

There's no sense in getting himself all worked up. He's not going on a _date_ with Gaara, after all. He's just doing the right thing and returning his property to him, and maybe he is hoping for friendship too, but that's it. 

Lee sets his phone down and goes about studiously ignoring it for the rest of the day.

________________________________________________

Lee stares up at the restaurant in gobsmacked wonder.

Gaara had texted him just as he was going to bed the night before with the address of the place and instructions to 'dress nicely'. Lee had panicked and dug through his suitcase, searching for anything nicer than the dark green turtleneck he planned on wearing. It was a nice shirt: short sleeved and subtly iridescent, changing from deep green to black as he moved, but he wasn't sure it was quite nice enough now. Unfortunately, Lee's priority when moving out of the country had not been dress clothes. 

He had tried not to read too much into Gaara's instructions as he'd finally given up and flopped into bed, but a question lurked at the back of his mind the whole night through, infiltrating even his dreams: was this a date? 

Standing outside the restaurant, Lee is almost sure it is. He imagines that stepping inside the restaurant will transport him to a little villa in Italy, and he suddenly feels massively under-dressed. 

The restaurant is in a gorgeous red-bricked building with vines climbing up one side and down the other. It's large front window is stark white, and Lee can see inside to the elaborate interior with its cream colored walls and artful pillars. Adjacent to the building is an outdoor seating area, protected by a white canopy with more lush greenery surrounding it. The entire restaurant, from building to canopy, is bedecked in little strings of lights, suggesting to Lee that, at night, new levels of romantic ambiance are reached. Everything about the place is a stark contrast to the drab LA streets around it, because directly across from the restaurant—separated by a wide divider with large trees and patchy, dried grass—is what looks to be a colourless apartment building, and directly behind that a large crane towers over everything.

All in all, from what Lee has seen so far of Los Angeles, everything is desaturated and dilapidated, making this little restaurant the first instance of the glitz and glam he's experienced since arriving. 

He checks his watch for the umpteenth time, nervously tugging at the collar of his turtleneck. The dry heat is getting to him, and he can feel himself beginning to sweat, even in the shade of the trees. He'd arrived early, worried about traffic after his ordeal the other day. He hadn't wanted to keep Gaara waiting, but his cab driver had managed to get him to the restaurant quickly—though Lee had worried the entire way over for his safety. 

At this point, however, Lee has been waiting for nearly half an hour, and Gaara is fifteen minutes late. He checks his phone, just to be sure that he'd gotten the correct time. 

“Lee.” Gaara's familiar voice has Lee whipping his head around, goosebumps rising on his skin despite the heat. 

“Gaara-san!” 

Lee's beaming smile falters as he comes face to face with not just Gaara, but the blonde man from the airport. Gaara is dressed up for the occasion, just as he asked Lee to be, in a clean cut suit jacket and fitted trousers. The jacket is black and sleek, and embellished with printed flowers in shades of pink at the hem and around the cuffs and collar. Naruto looks like he just rolled out of bed. 

“Oh, uh, I did not realize you were bringing uh—your—”

“Naruto,” Naruto says, leaning into Lee's personal space and peering into his face with an appraising gaze. He whistles. “Damn, you really do got big eyebrows, ya know?” 

Gaara drags Naruto away from Lee by the collar of his ill-fitted shirt. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Gaara directs at Lee. “Finding parking was hell.” 

“You think Sasuke's found any yet?” Naruto asks, looking over his shoulder. 

“God, I hope so,” Gaara mutters. “He's the only one who can keep you in line.” 

“Hey!” 

Lee shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to expel some of his pent energy and sooth his frayed nerves. “Well, it is nice to meet you, Naruto-san! I am Rock Lee.” 

Naruto's grin is filled with fox-like mischief, crooked and sharp. “You too, Eyebrows. So where's Gaara's stuff?” 

“I—I left it at home. I took a cab, and since the restaurant was so nice—”

“That's perfect,” Gaara says quickly, cutting in before Naruto could say anything. “I have your stuff in the car. I can drive you back home.” 

Lee's heart sores, but he's still weighed down by the assumption that Gaara and Naruto are dating. “Only if it is not an inconvenience.” 

“Not at all.” 

“Say, are you really an actor?” Naruto butts in, giving Lee a critical once over, his eyes lingering on Lee's arms. 

“Goodness, no, I am a stunt man and fight choreographer.” 

“I told you he wasn't actually acting.” Gaara prods Naruto's back with a sharp finger, still glaring. “When Sasuke gets here, you can leave.” 

Naruto whines, pouting in exaggeration. “But Gaaaaaraaaaaaa! We wanna get to know your new friend.” 

The way Naruto says 'friend' has Lee's skin hot enough to cook an egg, and he laughs nervously. Even though he would rather it be just him and Gaara, he says, “W-well, the more the merrier!” 

“No, Naruto has things to do today. Don't. You?” Gaara steps on Naruto's foot, punctuating the fact that his question is less request and more demand. 

“Owwww!” Naruto says, mouth open so wide Lee can see his irregularly long canines and several fillings. “Damn, fine, I'll leave you to your da—”

“Sasuke, please take your boyfriend home before I murder him.” Gaara glares past Naruto to a man who's just arrived. 

“Idiot, what did you do now?” 

“Nothing!” Naruto shouts. “Is it a crime to make sure one of your dearest friends isn't about to go to lunch with an ax murderer?” 

Lee stares between the three, a strained smile on his face. “I can assure you I am not an ax murderer.” 

“See?” Gaara crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Naruto. “Go. Now.” 

“Ugh, fine.” Naruto pouts again, but it doesn't seem to be having the desired effect, and he gives up. He throws his hands in the air, turning to Sasuke. “Fine, let's go before we miss the bus back to Venice. If you need anything,” he adds, turning back to Gaara, “or if he turns out to be an ax murderer, call me.” 

Gaara rolls his eyes and says, drily, “I'm sure if Lee tries to kill me, he'll be considerate enough to give me time to call for help.” 

“Oh, absolutely!” Lee says, cheeky and amused. “I do try my utmost best to be thoughtful of all my victims.” 

Sasuke snorts into his hand, shaking his head and dragging Naruto away. “I'll text you where the car is. And text us if you need help figuring out how to get back to our place—if you decide to come back tonight.” 

Lee isn't sure, but he thinks he saw Sasuke wink at Gaara. 

Gaara's cheeks are a rosy pink to match the flowers printed on his suit jacket, but he's composed as ever when he turns to Lee. “Shall we? I made reservations. Naruto recommended this place, but when I looked online it seemed like we couldn't just walk in.” 

“Perfect! After you.” 

Gaara's English—in Lee's entirely unbiased opinion—is flawless. Lee loses track of the conversation between Gaara and a host quickly, his own English having never been particularly stellar (though he's sure that'll change the longer he's here). They end up sitting outside, beneath the white canopy and greenery, a gentle mist falling around them and keeping them cool. 

Lee breathes a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve from the dryness outside the restaurant. 

“How's your English?” Gaara asks, looking over the menu.

“It is... all right, I suppose.” Lee scans the menu, but none of the dishes' names make any sense to him. “Um... I may need some help actually.” 

“It's in Italian.” Gaara leans close, pointing to an item on the first page. “It says what it is underneath, though.” 

“Did you want to do an appetizer?” 

“If you want. I remember you eat you a lot. I don't know what portions are like here, so that might be a good idea.” 

Lee's blush is faint across his cheeks, but his smile is wide. “It has been a while since I had Italian, but what about the uh... Ka-pa-shi-o... carpaccio di pesce?”

“I'm not a huge fan of fish.” 

“Really?” Lee recalls sharing only the seaweed salad off of his seafood meal during the flight, and regrets not having put two and two together. He looks the menu over. “How about the uh... Oh! These meatballs sound good.” 

Gaara agrees, and they lapse into silence. The silence is comfortable, almost soothing, interrupted by the soft tone of jazz drifting from hidden speakers and the gentle hiss of the misters above them. 

“Don't worry about the cost,” Gaara says into the silence, shifting in his seat. His foot knocks against Lee's, but quickly withdraws. “It's my treat.” 

Lee looks up from the menu, his eyes wide. The cost of each meal is far more than Lee feels comfortable allowing Gaara to pay for on his own. “But—”

“It's fine. This is a business trip.” Gaara shrugs, that faint blush from earlier returning. “I mean, I did ask you out to lunch.” 

Lee catches on that phrase—'ask you out'—and his mind grinds to a halt, trying to parse through if there's any implication within that statement. He's never been particularly good at picking up on subtleties, so if Gaara isn't being entirely straightforward, it's not obvious to Lee.

“But I accidentally stole your bag!” 

“True, but that was an accident. This isn't.” Gaara stares at Lee, the smoothness of his expression highlighting the emotion hiding behind his eyes. 

Lee's heart thuds in his chest. This is definitely a date. 

“Well,” Lee begins, face hot and heart still pounding, “can I pay for dessert?” 

Lee hopes that there's enough implication in his question, but he has never exactly been good at flirting, and he's almost positive the delivery is too earnest to be counted as successful flirting. 

Gaara raises one nearly invisible eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Dessert would be nice. We could take it to go...” 

Or maybe Lee's not so bad at this flirting thing after all. He grins, bright and eager. “When does your conference start?” 

“Friday,” Gaara says, foot shifting beneath the table until it's touching Lee's. This time he doesn't move it away. “It's just three days, but I'm staying for two weeks.” 

“We should do something after your conference.” Lee has forgotten all about deciding on what to eat for lunch, distracted entirely by the sparks he thinks he sees flying between them and the prospect of seeing Gaara again.

“I'd like that. You have my number saved, right?” 

“Oh, I—I did not want to presume—”

Gaara raises an eyebrow. “Presume.” 

Lee fights not to choke on his water at the look in Gaara eyes, still half-convinced that he's reading into things. He struggles against the tightness in his throat, his eyes watering. “O-okay.” 

Gaara shifts his foot: a brief motion against Lee's ankle that feels like a caress. “Naruto says there are a lot of interesting places to see in LA: the observatory, the beach, museums.” He's still looking at Lee with a heavy intention, his eyes lidded in a way that is almost suggestive of other things he'd like to do with Lee besides explore the city. 

“That—that sounds lovely!” Lee has never had anyone look at him the way Gaara is looking at him, never had anyone play footsie with him under a table, and it the combination of things is overwhelming enough that it makes his tongue feel heavy. His heart is beating a rapid tattoo in his chest, loud enough that he fears Gaara might somehow hear it. 

Disappointment flashes in Gaara's eyes, the gentle upturn of his mouth smoothing out. “Unless, there's something else you'd rather—”

“No!” Lee quickly says, his hand shooting across the table to touch Gaara's. He pulls it back almost as quickly, embarrassed by the casual touch, afraid he's not allowed. “I would—I would really love to spend more time with you. I—I thought I would never see you again, but then I found your luggage—”

“You left the plane so quickly,” Gaara murmurs, staring at Lee's escaped hand. 

“I—” Lee flushes, guilt burning deep in his stomach. “I have a confession: I left because I thought—I thought Naruto-san was your boyfriend.” 

Gaara splutters, the most expressive gesture Lee has seen from him, and chokes on the water he had just been sipping. “My _what_?” 

Lee doesn't mean to laugh, but Gaara's expression looks almost cartoonish compared to his usual stoic countenance. “I—I am so sorry,” he says through his laughter. “I do not mean to laugh.” 

“My _boyfriend_,” Gaara mutters, petulant and insulted. “I would _never_—Naruto—ugh.” 

Lee snickers, hiding his face behind his menu, trying to keep his laughter at bay. “I realize now that was foolish of me, but I saw the caller ID—”

Gaara groans, covering his face with his hands. “I'm changing it,” he says, voice muffled. “My _boyfriend_. God.” 

“To be fair to your friend, he is attractive.” 

Gaara opens his fingers to stare out at Lee, his eyes dead. “I would _never_,” he once again emphasizes. “_Ne-v-er_.” 

Lee holds his hands up in surrender. “I am glad,” he says quietly, his laughter gone, but his smile still shining. 

Gaara glares at him, mulish and annoyed. “Do you always insult your dates like that, or am I a special case?” 

Lee's heart immediately jumps into his throat, his face burning. “I—I did not mean to! I—date?” 

Gaara stares at him flatly. 

At that moment, a server arrives, saving Lee from both himself and imminent death. Gaara orders their appetizer for them, staring fixedly at Lee the entire time he's speaking to the server. It takes every ounce of Lee's willpower not to fidget under his gaze, forcing his gaze back to the menu as he takes none of the words in. 

Eventually, he does settle on what he wants to eat for lunch, listening with half an ear to Gaara's dry tones as the server chats with him about where he's from, how long he's staying, and offering suggestions for places to see. 

“Are you and your boyfriend staying nearby?” she asks, and the back of Lee's neck burns. 

“My _boyfriend_—” Lee can feel Gaara's intent gaze on him again, “—actually just moved here for work. I'll be going back to Japan in two weeks.” 

“Oh, no,” the server says, sympathetic and understanding. “Long distance? That's so hard. I did that with my girlfriend for a few months, but we couldn't handle it so I moved here to be with her.” 

“Where are you from?” 

“East coast—Boston. Honestly, it's not cheaper to live out here, but the nice thing about Cali is servers actually make minimum wage. Do you think you'll be doing the long distance for long?” 

Lee looks up to see Gaara watching him, his annoyance gone. “We'll see how things go,” he says, and he actually smiles. If he'd actually been annoyed at Lee for his poor judgment is a mystery, but his smile—however small—makes Lee's heart soar. 

“Let me go get this put in for you two, and I'll be back to take the rest of your order.” Their server gives them a knowing smile, before walking away. 

“So, am I your boyfriend now?” 

“No,” Gaara says flatly, and Lee deflates. “This is only our second date.” 

Lee frowns. “Second?” 

Gaara raises an eyebrow at Lee again, and Lee wonders vaguely how he manages to do that, blushing all the while. “So you picked that second movie completely by accident?” 

Caught red-handed, Lee can only grin. “I have no idea what you are talking about! My friend recommended that movie to me.” 

“Uh-huh.” Gaara doesn't believe him for a second, but there's an amused tilt to the corner of his mouth.

“Do you know what you are getting yet?” Lee asks, letting his menu fall to the table.

“Yes, you?” 

Lee gives him a thumbs up. “Yup! I am all set!” 

“Did you want to order any cocktails or wine?” 

“No,” Lee says, quick and abrupt. “I am sorry, I mean—I do not drink. It is, uh, not something that agrees with me.” 

Gaara grins behind his glass. “Not interested in demonstrating drunken boxing?” 

“I do not think that would make for a good second date.” 

“Maybe a good third date?” 

Lee grins. “Really?”

“I thought we'd already established that we were going to go out again?”

“Oh, right, I—I just—I am not used to this. I have not—people do not usually want to date me, so...” 

“Really?” 

Lee shrugs. “I am too intense—that is what my friend, Tenten, always tells me.” 

Gaara hums, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “I like your intensity.” 

“You would be the first,” he tells him, trying to sound cool and unaffected, but he is simultaneously upset by the admission and overjoyed by Gaara's own. Feeling emboldened by Gaara's blunt interest, he presses his own foot against Gaara's, hoping that he's executing the motion with more grace than he feels he is. 

Though Gaara's mouth turns up, the true intensity of his smile lies in his eyes, which shine like malachite, deep and dark as they reflect the dense greenery around them. “I have good taste.”

Their server returns not long after with a bowl of meatballs topped with thin slices of cheese and toasted bread on the side. She takes their main order before handing Gaara a piece of paper. 

“These are some cool places to go while you're here. I wouldn't try to do any amusement parks. All the big ones are too expensive, and all the little ones are shit, but as long as you don't mind the intense tourist vibes, most of this stuff is really fun.”

“Thank you,” Gaara says, folding up the list and placing it in his pocket. 

“So, you're the silent type huh?” she says, turning her attention to Lee, who has never been quiet a day in his life. “What brings you to LA?” 

“I got a job!” he tells her excitedly. In so many ways, the reality of his new job hasn't actually set in yet. Even being in California hasn't made it feel quite real, although he does have to admit, the shine of his new job has been momentarily overshadowed by the allure of Gaara. 

“Oh, fancy. Is this a suit and tie kinda deal? I mean, moving all the way from Japan, it's gotta be.” 

“Nope! I could not handle a job like that. Sitting behind a desk all day? That is not for me! I am going to be a fight choreographer and a stunt man on an upcoming film!” 

The server whistles. “That is so cool,” she says, and Lee isn't sure if it's the language barrier or not, but he thinks she doesn't believe him. “Well, Mr. Stuntman, good luck. Enjoy. I'll have your lunch out soon.” 

“I do not think she believed me,” he says to Gaara, shoving a fork into an unsuspecting meatball with a little too much force.

“She probably gets a lot of people claiming to be famous,” Gaara placates. 

“I guess.” Lee sighs. He'd actually been excited to tell someone else about his work, and had hoped she'd asked questions. He doesn't often brag about his skills, but he knows he's an exceptional martial artists and it's always exciting to showcase that knowledge to people unfamiliar with it. 

Under the table, Gaara's foot rubs against the back of Lee's calf. “When do you start work?” 

“Sometime in the middle of the month. I wanted to make sure I had enough time before starting work to settle in. I still need to get a car, and have some of my other things shipped.” 

“How long are you staying again?” 

“Six months. Nine months if filming goes over, but since I am not an actor I doubt I will be kept on much longer than that.” 

“And what happens when you impress them with your skill and they offer you another job?” Gaara reaches across the table, touching tentative fingertips against Lee's hand. “Will you never come back to Japan?” 

Lee is so caught up in Gaara's eyes that he forgets to answer right away. “Well, I—I do not think I could live here forever, but maybe I could figure something out. I would miss home too much.” 

“If you're highly sought after, I'm sure you could afford to travel back and forth.” 

Bravely, Lee entwines their fingers, a blush creeping up his face. He laughs nervously, his thoughts straying to some fantasy future where he and Gaara travel between the states and Japan. It is far too early on to so much as suggest that, and even if Gaara likes Lee's intensity, he doesn't want to scar him off. “That is probably what I would do. I do not think Gai-sensei could handle it if I did not return home.” 

Conversation turns away from Lee's work to less daunting and dangerous topics as they finish off their appetizer and wait for their meal. Lee learns that Gaara and Naruto used to be neighbors, which is how they became friends, and that when Naruto moved with Sasuke to Los Angeles, they had kept in touch. He also learns more about Gaara's siblings—his sister is married and has a child, while his brother recently finished a live action stage play for a popular series. 

Lee shares stories—heavily doctored to avoid any of the gruesome details of his time in foster care, which he's sure isn't a suitable second date conversation topic—about his childhood, how Gai had taken him in and mentored him, how he'd met his two best friends, and about his extended family in Hong Kong. 

When their lunch arrives, they fall into a short silence, hands still laced on the tabletop and legs entwined beneath the tablecloth. It is the first and only proper date of Lee's life, and he is on cloud nine, weightless and elated and entirely too smitten. He catches Gaara's eye across the table, and has to fight down a boyish smile, feeling almost punch-drunk on his joy. 

Lee has never met anyone like Gaara before, and his head spins at the reality of their chance encounter. Somehow, he'd landed a job and a (potential) boyfriend all at once, and he could not be happier. 

“Dessert menus, gentlemen? Or do stuntmen have strict diets?” their server asks with a cheeky grin an hour later when their plates are clean, and they are sharing a hushed conversation and significant looks. 

“Please,” Gaara says, taking the offered menu. 

Fifteen minutes later, they have dessert in a box and Gaara has snatched the bill before Lee can try to pay for dessert. 

“You can pay on our next date,” Gaara tells him, sliding a card into the sleek black receipt book.

“All right, but I will not let you trick me next time! I have a good salary, so there is no reason for me not to pay.” 

Gaara rolls his eyes. “I didn't mean to imply you don't, but I wanted to treat you. You did treat me to taiyaki, after all.” 

Lee gives Gaara a skeptical look. “The taiyaki did not cost a hundred dollars,” he says, with less inflection than usual, but unable to match Gaara's monotone. 

“And the taiyaki also wasn't a business expense.” 

They bicker good-naturedly until they leave the restaurant, pausing only to say goodbye to their server. 

Once outside, Gaara pulls out his phone, checking his messages. “The car should be down this way,” he says, nodding down the street. 

Lee follows after Gaara, glancing down every so often at their unjoined hands. He isn't sure just how comfortable Gaara is with public displays of affection, but he desperately wants to hold Gaara's hand as they search for the car. Instead, he settles for letting their hands brush as they walk. 

“The car's really hard to miss,” Gaara says, his shoulder bumping Lee's. “It's orange.” 

Lee snorts. “Orange? Really?” 

“It's Naruto's,” Gaara clarifies. “I think Sasuke's tried to crash the car as an excuse to get a new one at least once, but it's durable.” 

It turns out that the durable, orange vehicle is a tiny, little VW Bug with grimy windows and vibrant, blue swirl on its hood. There is a dent in one side, probably from Sasuke's attempt at destroying the thing. Lee finds it rather charming, and can't help but laugh at the image of Gaara behind the wheel of this car. 

“It is cute,” Lee coos, nudging Gaara's shoulder. 

“Hear that, Kurama, Lee thinks you're cute,” he says, fiddling with the broken handle of the passenger door. He gives a yank, and the door pops open. “Guess he likes you.” 

“I have been told I am very likable,” Lee says with a grin. 

Gaara leans close, brushing his hand up Lee's arm. “I'd agree with that statement.” 

He moves to the other side of the car, climbing into the driver's seat. “I'm still not used to LA driving. Could you put your address into GPS?” 

Lee does as he's told, glancing at Gaara from the corner of his eye as he pulls out of the tight spot Sasuke had found. It's a twenty minute drive back to his place, and they only hit a little bit of traffic before they make it to Lee's place. 

Lee takes their take-away dessert while Gaara grabs Lee's things from the backseat. A heavy silence falls between them as they make their way up the stairs to Lee's apartment. Lee hasn't thought much about what it means to have Gaara come over to his place until this moment, and his heart is now racing as they climb up a flight of steps. 

He fumbles with his keys, his nerves running electric and his blood molten. 

“Here,” he says, taking his luggage from Gaara, their fingers brushing and sending shocks through Lee. He pushes the door open, shucking his shoes and dropping his keys on a little table. “Uh, we—welcome.” 

Gaara follows Lee in, standing awkwardly on the threshold. He doesn't bend to remove his shoes right away. “Did this come furnished?” 

Lee nods, moving through the studio to where Gaara's suitcase is sat next to his bed. “I did not want to worry about having to buy new things or send too much stuff overseas.” 

“Makes sense,” Gaara murmurs, still standing in the doorway.

Lee's heart is lodged in his throat. “You—you can come in.” 

Gaara steps out of his shoes and takes off his jacket, shuffling into Lee's living room/bedroom. Lee awkwardly holds out the luggage that had brought them back together, suddenly self-conscious. “Um... did you want to eat that dessert now?” 

The tension seems to leave Gaara, dropping from him like leaves falling from a tree. “Yes.” 

Lee glances between his bed and the couch. He summons all the courage he can, before setting their dessert boxes on the bed and retreating to the kitchen to fetch utensils. As he passes Gaara on his way back to the bed, he grabs his hand, tugging him gently along with him. 

It takes a little while for Lee's nerves to settle, and he can't bring himself to look at Gaara as he opens his own dessert.

“What did you get?” Lee asks, peering into Gaara's box. Inside is a sweet, little chocolate cake in the shape of a heart. 

“It's flourless chocolate cake,” Gaara says, scooping up a piece and holding his fork out to Lee.

Lee tries not to sound too undignified, but the dessert is delicious—rich and decadent and mouthwatering. “Tha'z really good,” he says through a mouthful, earning a smile from Gaara. 

“I'm not a fan of sweets,” Gaara admits. “I like dark chocolate though.” 

“I will remember that,” Lee says, licking his lips for any remaining chocolate. His own dessert is a gorgeous panna cotta with a delicate spattering of sugared rose petals all around. Lee picks one up, holding it out to Gaara. “This may be too sweet, but do you want to try it?” 

Gaara leans forward, holding Lee's hand steady as he takes the rose petal into his mouth. His lips end up coated in sugar, and Lee licks his lips again, his eyes stuck on the granules of sugar glistening against Gaara's mouth. If he were brave, he would lean forward and kiss them away, but he isn't, not like that, and he lets the moment pass. 

“It's okay.” Gaara watches Lee, still holding his hands loosely. “I think I'd like it better with the chocolate.” 

Lee scoops up a bite of panna cotta, trying to think of something cool or sexy to say. He can't think of anything, never having been either of those things, so he quietly drops a rose petal onto Gaara's cake. 

“Do you like raspberries?” Gaara holds a raspberry up to Lee, between his thumb and index finger. The raspberry has just a small dollop of mousse on it, which has also ended up on Gaara's finger. Lee leans forward, taking the berry into his mouth, along with Gaara's mousse covered finger. 

His face is so hot he feels as though he's going to combust, but he tries to lower his lashes in such a way that it might be considered seductive. Gaara's mouth works, his expression strained before he falls over laughing. 

“I'm sorry, Lee,” he says, gasping, “but your face—”

Lee's embarrassed flush burns hotter and his eyes sting, and he sits up, chewing the raspberry dejectedly, hardly enjoying the sweet tartness. There isn't much he can say in response to Gaara's amusement. He feels slighted and less than desirable, his inexperience and insecurity shining through his poor attempts at—was he supposed to be being seductive? Were they not going to kiss? Was a second date too soon to expect kissing? Lee's throat is suddenly too tight, and he shrinks in on himself. 

“Lee,” Gaara says, his voice suddenly close, heavy and serious in Lee's ear. “I'm sorry, really. It's not—I'm not making fun of you.” 

Lee looks up to find Gaara inches from him, their noses nearly touching. His voice catches for a second in his throat, but he's still too upset to let their closeness ease him. “Then what is so funny?” 

“It's not like that,” Gaara explains. “I think it's endearing. It's funny because it's cute.” Gaara reaches behind to his box of cake, picking it up and grabbing a raspberry from it. “Here.” 

Lee closes his mouth tight, not wanting to be laughed at again. 

“Come on.” Gaara's breath escapes him on an aborted laugh, soft and fluttering. He presses the raspberry to Lee's mouth, trying to convince him to take it. “If you're going to be like that.” 

It's all the warning Lee gets before the raspberry is fairly crushed against his lips, and Gaara is pushing him onto the bed, breathy laughs escaping he pins Lee to the bed. Lee can't help but lick his lips, and he finally devolves into laughter of his own. 

Gaara leans over him, running a finger along Lee's bottom lip. “There. That wasn't so bad.” 

“Hmph,” Lee pouts. “I still do not think it was funny.” 

Gaara rolls his eyes, sitting up. “Well, if you're going to be like that I can just go—”

“No!” Lee grabs Gaara, tugging him back onto the bed before he can go anywhere. He knows it's a ploy by the secret smile playing at Gaara's lips and the light in his eyes, but he doesn't care. He wraps his arms around Gaara's waist, holding him close. “Please stay.” 

“I mean, I had intended to stay, but if you don't want me to...” 

Lee looks up at him, all nerves and excitement. “I—I would love for you to stay. But I—I have never done anything like this before, so I—”

“I'm not expecting anything, Lee. Just your company. And maybe a kiss.” 

Lee freezes, but a smile finds its way to his lips. His heart thuds, loud as a drumbeat in his ears. “I would love a kiss.” 

Gaara leans forward, a light in his eyes that Lee wants to believe could turn to love. “Then why are we still talking?”

________________________________________________

🛫SIX MONTHS LATER🛬

Lee's luggage clangs with the heavy sound of his weights as it lands on the carousel, but he's hardly paying attention to it. His phone buzzes in his hand, and he's got it answered before he can stop to stare at the caller ID photo.

“Hello? Gaara?” 

Gaara's soft, honey-heavy laughter echoes through the speaker. “Turn around.” 

Lee whirls, scanning the crowded arrival lobby and baggage claim area for that familiar hair he's missed so dearly. In the distance, he spots Gaara, standing apart from the crowd. Lee doesn't remember to grab his luggage, darting through the crowd and racing towards Gaara. 

“Lee, slow down!” Gaara yells, holding his hands up, but it's too late. Lee is on him in an instant, throwing his arms around Gaara and lifting him clean off the ground. He spins them around, laughing joyously. Gaara wraps his arms around Lee in return, leaning down to press his forehead against Lee's. 

“I have missed you.” 

Gaara hums, content as a house cat. “Did you? I never would have guessed.” 

Lee has grown used to Gaara's teasing over the last six months of texts and phone calls and face timing, most of which were nearly impossible to organize with the time difference. It had been easier for Gaara; his schedule hadn't been chaotic and full, and he kept late hours more often than not. But Lee hadn't had that same freedom, and most nights when he did manage to facetime Gaara, he'd fall asleep listening to the gentle thrum of Gaara's voice through the phone's speaker. 

Gaara always hung up once he heard the gentle sound of Lee's even breathing, then called back to wake Lee up for a proper goodnight. 

“Good night, Gaara,” Lee would say, half asleep. “You promise you will not fall in love with anyone else while I am gone?” 

“How could I? There's no one else like you.” 

Lee had lived for those words, and on the days when they couldn't find time to talk, Gaara always found the time to text him.

“Did you not miss me?” Lee finally asks, pulling away from pressing his face against the crook of Gaara's neck. 

“Every day.” Gaara leans close, shortening the distance until his mouth is a breath away from Lee's. “And you didn't fall in love with some Hollywood starlet while you were working?” 

“No starlet could ever compare.” 

Gaara closes the distance between them, pressing a sweet kiss to Lee's mouth, a restrained hunger in the gentle pressure of his lips against Lee's. 

“Were you eating chocolate?” Lee asks with a laugh when they pull away. 

“It's the next best thing.” 

“To what?” 

Gaara's eyes fall to Lee's mouth again and he leans forward. “What do you think?” 

Lee doesn't get to answer because Gaara kisses him again, more thoroughly than before. Lee laughs into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Gaara. “I think we should go.” 

“Get your things,” Gaara murmurs against Lee's mouth. “And make sure you grab the right luggage this time.” 

Lee winks at Gaara, a crooked smile on his face. “I always do.”


End file.
